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ELINOR FULTON. 


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BY THE AUTHOR OF 


^THREE EXPERIMENTS OF LIVING’ 


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i 


* Every iii'dividual should bear in mind, that he is sent into this world to act 
a part iivit ; and though one may have a more splendid and another a more 
obscure part assigned him, yet the actor of each is equally accountable.’ 

Hannah More, 


Eleyenth Edition. 


5 


5 


BOSTON: 

PUBLISHED BY WPIIPPLE & DAMRELL, 

9 Cornhill. 

NEW YORK: SAMUEL COLMAN. 






1837 


« » 


« 



Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1837, by 
William S. Damrell, 

in the Clerk’s office of the District Court of Massachusetts. 




. 1 . 




TO 

THE FEMALE COMMUNITY 

THIS LITTLE BOOK 

IS 


AFFECTIONATELY DEDICATED. 





t 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER I. 

The Trio 1 

CHAPTER II. 

Charity . . 19 

• CHAPTER III. 

Accommodating One’s-self to the Means ... 33 

CHAPTER IV. 

Renewal of Old Acquaintances 43 

CHAPTER V. 

A Letter 52 

CHAPTER VI. 

One Side of the Question 60 

CHAPTER VII. 

The Other Side of the Question 70 


4 


yi CO N TENTS. 


CHAPTER VIII. ^ 

Domestics 75 

CHAPTER IX. 

A Mutual Experiment 87 

CHAPTER X. 

Brighter Prospects 08 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Purse of Fortunatus 104 

CHAPTER XII. 

Two Resources 109 

CHAPTER XIII. 

Architecture 114 

CHAPTER XIV. 

A Cotillon Party 121 

CHAPTER XV. 

Dr. Fulton’s Pteturn 128 

CHAPTER XVI. 

% 

The Departure of an Old Friend 134 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Arrival of a Friend, and Conclusion . . . 139 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


The extraordinary demand for the recent publication, 
called ‘ Three Experiments of Living, ’ — of which no 
less than twenty thousand copies have been called for in the 
course of two months, — justifies the opinion which the 
Editor had ventured to express of its merit; while, at the 
same time, it affords highly satisfactory evidence, that the 
public sentiment still remains sound upon the subject of the 
important, though apparently humble concerns, which form 
the leading topics of that work. It is no small confirmation 
of the truth of this opinion, that the little work just men- 
tioned was no sooner issued from the press, than it called 
forth imitators; who, while they disclaimed all intention of 
interfering with the rights of its author, yet acknowledged 
themselves to be in some degree indebted to that publication, 
and adopted so much of its name and external appearance 
as has served (whatever may have been the intention) to 
connect their own works with it before the public. 

The Editor believes, that the author of the ‘ Three Ex- 
periments ’ will not be sorry to have any worthy and able 
fellow-laborers in this great cause; but he trusts, that the 
public will not, — as might happen on a hasty inspection, — 
iae led to suppose, from any resemblance in the titles or other 
badges, that these last publications are from the same source 
with the former. 

The decided opinion of the public, thus manifested, has 
induced the author to pursue in the present w'ork the main 
subject of the ‘ Three Experiments,’ into some details, 
which could not well be embraced within the limits pre- 
scribed for that publication. 


ADVERTISEMENT. 


Tiii 

Among those details, the relation subsisting between heads 
of families and their domestics holds an important place; 
as, upon the careful adjustment of the rights and duties of 
the two parties depend the comfort and happiness of both 
of them. I’he views of this truly practical writer on that 
subject, as developed in the present work, are, that some por- 
tion, at least, of the troubles and animosities of which we 
hear so much in this perplexing family relation, — though to 
be attributed oftener than we could wish to the domestics 
themselves, — are yet, too frequently, the effect of unreason- 
able and injudicious requisitions on the part of the master 
or mistress of the family. 

In a country circumstanced as ours is, this domestic rela- 
tion will undoubtedly be essentially modified by our peculiar 
condition, as has been the case with almost every thing 
else belonging to the practical concerns of society, which 
our ancestors brought from the old world to the new. 
VV'hether these modifications have already reached their 
settled and permanent state, nr are yet to undergo still further 
changes, time alone can determine. Without speculating, 
too minutely, however, as to the future, and looking at oui 
social condition as it actually exists at the present time, few 
persons, it is Ijelieved, will deny the justness of the author’s 
views, in general, upon this part of the subject ; and, if those 
\iews shall have the effect to induce a more accurate exami- 
nation of the true sources of the difficulties in the case, 
by those whose talents and experience best qualify them to 
lie judges on this question, the author of the present publica- 
tion will have rendered no small service to the community. 

This particular topic, however, is in every respect a 
subordinate one in the author’s plan; it being the main 
object of the present work, still to inculcate the same great 
fundamental principle which was the basi? of the preceding 
one, — a just observance of that true economy in living, 
which, without degenerating into miserly meanness, and 
producing a real degradation of the individual from the 
station in society, for which his Creator has destined him, 
is yet essential to happiness, and, above all, to an honest 
independence. 

THE EDITOR. 

Boston, March 1, 1837. 


ELINOR FULTON 


CHAPTER I. 

A 

THE TRIO. 

There is nothing more easy than for people 
to retire from the world, without turning her- 
mits or living in caves or deserts. Astrono- 
mers tell us of countless worlds; — if we look 
within our own precincts we shall find an 
equal multiplication ; every class of society 
talks of the world, and every class means 
something different. Poor Mrs. Fulton and 
her family, since they had been driven from 
fashionable life, seemed to be the only beings 
in this great city that were tenants of no 
world, for they were decidedly pronounced 
out of the world. 

It was on a morning call at Mrs. Bradish’s, 
that the trio of Jane’s former friends chanced 
to meet. — ‘Do tell me,’ said Mrs. Hart, 


10 


ELINOR FULTON 


addressing Mrs. Reed, ‘ what has become 
of your friends, the Fultons } ’ 

‘ My friends ! ’ replied Mrs. Reed, in rather 
an elevated tone, — ‘ I do not know why you 
term them my friends ; to be sure they lived 
in the same block of buildings that I did, 
and now and then I gave them advice, for the 
poor things were as ignorant of the customs 
and forms of society as the natives of the South 
Sea Islands, and yet had a most unconsciona- 
ble desire to be fashionable and genteel ; but 
as for my ever ranking them mnong friends, 
nothing could be further from my thoughts. 
I was willing to give them my advice, and 
did all for them in my power to enable them 
to appear ivell on their income ; and without 
vanity, I may say, they would never have 
been any thing without my instructions ; why, 
I do assure you, the first large dinner they 
gave, Mrs. Fulton asked me if she had not 
better have two boiled turkeys, because, she 
said, everybody was so fond of boiled tur- 
key ! I was absolutely shocked ; and I sus- 
pected, from that time, there must be some 
moral deficiency in her mind ; and you know 
it proved so afterwards.’ 


THE TRIO. 


11 


‘ I never thought,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘Mrs 
Fulton was so much to blame.’ 

‘ I assure you,’ replied Mrs. Reed, ‘ she was 
the most ungrateful of the two, to me. After 
they came into your neighborhood she seemed 
to have entirely forgotten, that it was / who 
lifted her up.’ 

‘ You must remember,’ said Mrs. Hart, a 
little scornfully, ‘ that if she had not been 
“lifted up,” she would never have fallen.’ 
Mrs. Reed took no notice of the observation, 
but continued ; ‘ I never could bear people 
that are always striving to rise.’ 

Smiles were now exchanged between the 
two other ladies, which seemed to have an 
irritating effect on Mrs. Reed, for she added, 
in an excited manner; ‘Now I think of it, 
Mrs. Hart, you were acquainted with them 
before I was ; I should rather ask you what 
has become of your friends.^ 

‘Upon my word,’ said Mrs. Hart, ‘you 
have quite the advantage of me in memory. 
O, I do recollect, that I first met them where 
I went on a visit of charity, and afterwards 
Mrs. Fulton actually came to my house, to 
solicit my subscription for an infant school, or 


12 


ELINOR FULTON. 


something of the kind. I really do not know 
any thing more impertinent than for people to 
offer to spend your money for you; I presume 
we can all find ways enough. I recollect, 
however, I subscribed.^' 

‘That is the way I always do,’ said Mrs. 
Bradish, ‘ it is the easiest w'ay of getting rid 
of such people. I never read their papers, 
nor hear their stories, but if I happen to have 
the money, I give it to them,’ 

‘Well, for my part,’ said Mrs. Reed, ‘I 
think giving is an encouragement to vice.’ 

‘ I don’t know,’ said Mrs. Bradish, * I 
never thought about that.’ 

‘ You have such a kind heart,’ exclaimed 
Mrs. Reed, ‘ that you are continually imposed 
upon ; but I do assure you, giving of all sorts 
is an encouragement to vice. I am principled 
against it.’ ' 

‘Not against giving advice,^ said Mrs. Hart, 
sarcastically; ‘ that, you know, you gave gratis 
to your friends, the Fultons. O, I ask your 
pardon, to my friends. But I have twenty 
calls to make before dinner, and I must leave 
you, ladies, to settle the matter by yourselves;* 


THE TRIO. 


13 


and, making a fashionable something between 
a bow and a courtesy, she departed. 

‘ What a horrible humor Mrs. Hart is in, 
this morning ! ’ exclaimed Mrs. Reed, when 
she was well out of hearing. ‘ I can account 
for it all ; it is for nothing but because I bought 
a bonnet yesterday that she wanted. I wish 
to mercy I had had it on ! it would have killed 
her outright ! ’ 

Mrs. Bradish laughed. ‘Why I thought 
you were excellent friends.’ 

‘ Bless you, so we are, the best in the 
world; but that is no reason I should be blind 
to her faults. She certainly dresses with a 
great deal of taste ; we almost always hit upon 
the same things ; but' she will give any price 
for an article of dress that she fancies. She 
actually raises the price of articles ; she is 
horribly extravagant about her own dress. As 
to her “charity visits,” I do not believe she 
ever gives any thing in charity.’ 

‘Perhaps she is pHncipled against it,’ said 
Mrs. Bradish, smilingly. 

‘ O, no,’ said Mrs. Reed; ‘if she was, I 
should not have a word to say;: for, you know, 
we must always act up to our principles ’ 


14 


ELINOR FULTON. 


‘ I don’t pretend to know,’ said Mrs. Brad- 
ish, languidly; ‘but it seems to me, that it 
does not make much difference to people who 
are starving, whether you refuse from princi- 
ple, or because you want the money for your 
own dress.’ 

‘ I ask your pardon,’ replied Mrs. Reed; ‘ I 
have thought a great deal upon all these sub- 
jects, and when people come to me, I always 
advise them to work; and if they say they are 
sick, or old, or blind, or have any of this kind 
of cant, which you know is common, I have an 
answer ready; I say, “ Go to the almshouse!” 
You must remember, my dear Mrs. Bradish, 
that money does not flow in upon everybody 
as it does upon you ; it is'very easy for people 
to be charitable, if they make no sacrifices.’ 

‘I never pretended to be charitable,’ said 
Mrs. Bradish; ‘I said I gave my money to 
get rid of solicitations. However, I do think 
Mrs. Fulton was charitable, for she would 
walk all about the city to help the poor, and 
Ellen was one of the dearest little girls I ever 
knew.’ 

‘ That puts me in mind,’ said Mrs. Reed ; 


THE TRIO. 


15 


‘ have you heard from your son Henry late- 
ly ’ 

‘Yes, we expect him home very soon.’ 

• ‘He was a prodigious favorite of mine,’ 
said Mrs. Reed, ‘ and my Fanny thinks he is 
the best dancer she ever saw. I remember it 
was said at the ct'ash ball that the Fultons 
gave, that it would be a match between your 
son and Ellen Fulton.’ Mrs. Bradish made 
, no answer, and the lady again repeated the 
latter part of her sentence. 

‘We were all of us good friends on both 
sides,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘till the failure took 
place ; and I can say with truth, I miss them 
more than any people I ever knew, and if it 
were not so troublesome to hunt them up, I 
should be thankful to resume my intercourse 
with them ; nor do I see any objection to it 
now, as Dr. Fulton has gone to Kamtchatka, 
or some such place, where I hope he will 
always remain.’ 

‘ How amiable and forgiving you are,’ said 
Mrs. Reed, ‘ when Mr. Bradish lost so much 
by him ! ’ 

‘There is nothing very amiable in it,’ re- 
plied Mrs. Bradish, ‘ it did not diminish my 


16 


ELINOR FULTON. 


comforts. I really wish I could see Mrs. 
Fulton again.’ 

‘ Nothing would be easier,’ said Mrs. Reed. 

‘I don’t think so;. they live at the land’s 
end; I can’t hunt them up.’ 

‘ I shall be happy to do it for you,’ said 
Mrs. Reed, recollecting that Mrs. Bradish’s 
carriage would be very convenient. ‘Ellen 
Fulton is certainly a fine girl. I thought 
when she and your son were waltzing togeth- 
er at the ball they gave, that they were a 
very fine couple. Perhaps you would like 
to have me take your carriage some morning, 
and hunt them up.’ 

‘I should,’ said Mrs. Bradish. At that 
moment the footman entered and handed a 
paper to his lady. She cast her eye over it, — 
“ a poor family, six children ! ” She took out 
her purse, — 

‘ My dear Mrs. Bradish, for once be ad- 
vised by me,’ eagerly exclaimed Mrs. Reed; 
do not give; it is imposition, all imposition, — 
nobody is obliged to beg here. I am princi- 
pled against giving,’ repeated she ; ‘it is only 
an encouragement to vice.’ 

Mrs. Bradish found it easier to resist the 


THE TRIO. 


17 


silent paper than the eloquent address of JMrs. 
Heed, and she told the servant to take it 
away. 

‘ What horrid cold weather it is ! ’ said 
Mrs. Reed, putting her feet to the fire. ‘ I 
declare I have been frozen all the morning, 
for our furnace got out of order, and we 
could not have a fire in the entry.' 

‘It is unusually cold,’ said Mrs. Bradish, 
‘ the thermometer was below zero this morn- 
ing. I am thinking,’ added she after a pause, 
‘ that it must be very cold weather for poor 
people. I suppose they have no furnaces in 
their cellars.’ 

‘ Not colder for them than for us, you 
know,’ said Mrs. Reed; ‘ nor so cold neither, 
for they are used to it, and hardier than we are.’ 

‘ I am sorry,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘ I did 
not give a trifle just now; perhaps it is not 
too late.’ She rung the bell. ‘John, you 
may bring that paper to me again.’ 

Mrs. Reed started up. ‘ Well, I must go; 
but take my advice and do not give.’ 

The servant came back and said the person 
was gone. ‘ O, well,’ thought Mrs. Bradish, 
‘ there is no help for it, and I dare say Mrs. 

2 


18 


ELINOR FULTON. 


Reed was right.’ Yet, as the wind blew in 
gusts against the windows, and the frost 
gathered on the polished panes, she more than 
once regretted she had not given a trifle. 


CHARITY. 


19 


CHAPTER II 

CHARITY. 

It cannot be amiss to state the circum- 
stances which called forth Mrs. Reed’s opin- 
ion upon alms-giving, nor what occasioned the 
appeal to Mrs. Bradish’s charity. 

The Bemis family, for whom the paper so- 
licited aid, lived as comfortably on their daily 
labor as improvident, thoughtless people gen- 
erally do ; they worked from day to day for 
food, fuel, and house-rent. If by any unex- 
pected good fortune a dollar or two more was 
earned in the course of the week, than was 
expended, it was squandered on Saturday 
evening in an additional treat, which for a few 
hours made the inhabitants of the ten-foot 
building as happy as those who inhabit pal- 
aces. 

A few days before the sixth child came to 
claim its place amongst them, the father had 
unfortunately injured his right hand so much 
as to wholly disable him from work. When 
the mother likewise was taken from the labor 


20 


ELINOR R U L T 0 N . 


of the fuiully with the additional care of an 
infant, none could be more destitute than they 
were, and nothing more pressing than their 
actual wants. Mrs. Smith, a kind-hearted 
woman, who lived near them, learned, through 
one of the children, their situation, and im- 
mediately went to see them. 

She found them deficient in the necessaries 
of life, and the mother without proper attend- 
ance. 

It may well be said of infants, that ‘ they 
bring their love with them’; for among this 
group of innocent children not one emotion 
save of delight could be found. All were 
contending for the pleasure of holding the 
baby ; and the youngest was seated on the 
floor, with her two feet stretched out, waiting 
for her turn to come. 

To those who had reflection, it was a scene 
of gloomy anticipation. Mrs. Smith was full 
of kind feeling. She perceived, that, under 
these circumstances, the family must have aid; 
such as her own means enabled her to give 
she willingly contributed; but she was one of 
those who had more time than money, and 
possessed a degree of restless activity, that 


CHARITY. 


21 


made it no hardship for her to do all in her 
power to adjust matters between the rich and 
the poor. 

With all the confidence of benevolent pur- 
pose she drew up a petition, that was first 
sent to Mrs. Bradish, because that lady fre- 
quently headed subscriptions. It described in 
pathetic language the situation of the family; 
dwelt, in a most moving manner, upon the six 
helpless little children; and assured those who 
might give, that they would have their reward 
in this world, as well as in another. Of the 
father, she thought it better to say nothing, as 
it might weaken her plea, but left people to 
suppose, or conjecture, that he had died a 
short time before the petition was presented. 

To this paper she put the most unequivocal 
proof of her sincerity, by signing her own 
name, ‘ Mercy Smith,’ at full length. 

We have seen how little success the peti- 
tion found with Mrs. Bradish, as it was the 
one that was discarded through Mrs. Reed’s 
eloquence. 

The sick woman said she thought her cousin 
Lucinda, that lived at Mrs. Hopkins’s, would 
come and stay till she got about. 


22 


ELINOR FULTON. 


Mrs. Smith put on her hood and cloak, 
not at all displeased at the idea of getting 
access to the splendid mansion of Mrs. Hop- 
kins, and set out in pursuit of Lucinda. 

Now it so happened, that in turning a corner 
of the next street, she met the very person of 
whom she was in pursuit. She immediately- 
told her errand, and described the suffering 
state of the family with so much pathos, that 
Lucinda said she had ‘ more than half a 
mind to go and take care of her cousin Be- 
mis. It is true,’ said she, ‘ that Mrs. Hop- 
kins is a great invalid, but that is nothing to 
me. She has two nurses already.’ 

‘ Your poor cousin has none ; and nobody 
but Sally to take care of her, who is but a 
child, you know,’ said Mrs. Smith, 

‘ I have half a mind, as I said before, to 
go,’ said Lucinda; ‘ but you must wait till I 
have done my errands.’ 

‘ Certainly, ’ said Mrs. Smith ; ‘ and then you 
must ask Mrs. Hopkins’s leave,’ 

‘ Ask Mrs. Hopkins’s leave ! ’ said Lucin- 
da, scornfully, ‘ I hope you don’t think I 
ask leave when I want to go out ; I am abov^e 
that, I assure you; that is all done away, now- 


CHARITY. 


23 


a-days. They d jii’t ask oiir leave, and I don’t 
know why we should ask theirs. I shall just 
tell her I am going a few days to take care 
of my cousin, because it is but fair she should 
know it.’ 

‘ Perhaps she won’t let you com.e back 
again.’ 

‘There is no danger of that ; help is so 
scarce, that they will put up with almost any 
thing. Besides, I don’t over and above like 
my place. Why, when she wants to send me 
of an errand, she does not like it because I 
-stop to dress me a little smart. Don’t my 
nose look as red as a cherry ? ’ 

‘ I think if you had worn your cloak and 
hood, you would have been much more com- 
fortable.’ 

‘ As if I would go' into W ashington street 
with a cloak and hood ! ’ 

In a few hours Lucinda was Mrs. Bemis’s 
nurse, and Mrs. Smith was at liberty to plan 
something for the relief of the family. She 
was a kind-hearted woman, who gave to the 
utmost of her ability, and that was time ; she 
was admirable at drawing up a petition, and, 
as before mentioned, she was willing to test 


24 


ELINOR FULTON. 


her sincerity, by signing hei name, ‘ Mercy 
Smith,’ at full length. But it often happened 
that she was as little known as the object of 
the petition. 

It was in this way her petition for the Se- 
mises had gone the rounds. Some, when 
they saw an unknown name signed at the 
bottom, sent it away with disgust ; some re- 
fused to read it; and a few, a very few, took 
pains to inquire, and then Mr. Bemis came 
to life, a hearty, able-bodied man, and the 
whole appeared to be ah imposition. 

When Mrs. Smith found how unsuccessful 
she had been, it was very natural, that she, 
who knew the destitute situation of the family, 
should take but one view of the wealthy ; she 
pronounced them hard-hearted, unfeeling mon- 
sters, and had serious thoughts of writing a 
tract, to arouse their slumbering consciences 
One resource, however, remained ; it was to 
consult Mrs. Watson, whom she had often 
met on benevolent errands, and to whose good 
judgment she had sometimes, unwillingly, 
yielded her own. 'Yet the event had always 
justified Mrs. W’^atson’s advice, and she had 
learned to respect it. Again went on the cloak 


CHARITY. 


25 


and hood, and the indefatigable wearer gained 
easy access to Mrs. Watson. 

She stated her case, told what she had 
done, and what she had tried to do, and 
though she had put her own name to the paper, 
at full length, they chose to believe it an im- 
position. ‘I have been thinking,’ said she, 
‘ that we might get up a fair for the poor at 
large, and in this way assist the Bemis family. 
I have a number of needle-books and pin- 
cushions, and as many as thirty emery-bags 
on hand, that remain from the last fair.’ 

‘ I doubt,’ said Mrs. Watson, ‘ whether you 
could do much for this individual family in 
that way ; their necessities seem to require 
immediate relief ; we had better think of some 
other means.’ 

‘It seems to me unaccountable,’ said Mrs. 
Smith, ‘ that such a charitable woman as you 
are should not be willing to help on fairs ; 
think how many hundred dollars have been 
raised by them, — you will allow, for excellent 
purposes. I should like to know why a fair for 
the poor at large, upon the same principle, is 
not as good as a ministry for the poor at large.* 

‘Because,’ said Mrs. Watson, * it is not 
3 


26 


ELINOR FULTON. 


upon the same principle ; in that ministry, 
there is no contribution levied upon the 
weaker propensities of human nature, — they 
administer to the spiritual and temporal wants 
of the community, and, like the apostle of 
primitive times, “ go about doing good,” 
We are often accused of being only a money- 
making people. Let us not justify this charac- 
ter, by gaining money for charity through traf- 
,fic and barter.’ 

‘I don’t care how we get it,’ said Mrs. 
Smith; ‘if we only get it, that is the point.’ 

do,’ said Mrs. Watson. ‘ I want _charity 
to be a mutual benefit, to bless those who 
give and those who receive, to be a school for 
our children. 1 hav« heard mothers boast 
with complacency, that their children were 
laying up all their money to spend in charity 
at the next fair. Do you think these little 
beings kept in sight the principle of charity, 
while they were wandering about among dolls 
and painted harlequins Probably the desire 
of gain was their first and only impulse. It 
reminds me of an observation by some' sarcas- 
tic foreigner, that even the very lullaby song 
of our nurseries Bye, baby, bye.” ’ 


CHARITY. 


27 


* All that can be sai^,’ replied Mrs. Smith, 
* is, that if we do not get money in this way, 
we shall not get it at all.’ 

‘Your object,’ replied Mrs. Watson, ‘is 
for the poor to get it; if they are relieved, your 
purpose is answered.’ 

‘ But there are people who will not give, 
unless they get. something in return,’ replied 
Mrs. Smith. 

‘ It may be so,’ said Mrs. Watson; ‘ but there 
are few who dp not feel, that, when they relieve 
the suffering and the helpless, they get more 
in return than fairs can offer, — the approba- 
tion of their own consciences, and the blessing 
of Heaven.’ 

‘Then you wholly disapprove of fairs? ’ 

‘ I am very willing they should be got up as 
fairs; they exercise the ingenuity and indus- 
try of our young people, and, I doubt not, are 
generally from the best motives ; but I cannot 
altogether like the principle of operating upon 
the weaker propensities of our nature, even to 
accomplish a good purpose; nor do I wish 
our children, when they ^o from a fair, loaded 
with toys, to think they are charitable little 


28 


ELINOR FULTON. 


creatures^ that have been saving their money 
to give in charity. Let individuals who mean 
to be charitable, have their high reward, the 
blessings of their own consciences, and of the 
poor.’ 

‘I suppose then,’ said Mrs. Smith, ‘you 
don’t approve of societies ? ’ 

^ ‘ There are many societiea of which I highly 
approve; much more can be effected by them, 
than by individual charity. There are societies 
whose members visit the houses of the poor, 
investigate their wants, and give sympathy and 
advice, as well as money; who, amidst storm 
and snow, and the piercing cold of winter, 
come like angels of mercy. To such, who are 
willing to give their time and labor to helpless 
indigence, we may freely and thankfully give 
our subscriptions. All I would wish is, that 
•what we give in these subscriptions, may not 
subtract from individual charity.’ 

‘ All this may be very true, but it does not 
help the Bemis family,’ said Mrs. Smith. 

‘ Not a bit,’ said Mrs. Watson; ‘ we will try, 
-however, what we can do for them; my health 
confines me to the house, but I have an active^ 


CHARITY. 


29 


young friend, who will call on you in an hour 
or two, and go and see them. I promise you, 
your benevolent errand shall n(>t fail.’ 

Mrs. Smith departed in a more composed 
state of mind than she came. 

There seems to. have been no better defini- 
tion of charity, for more than eighteen hundred 
years, than St. Paul’s : ‘ Though I have all 
faith, so that I could remove mountains, and 
have not charity, I am nothing.’ ‘ Charity 
suffereth long and is kind, envieth not, is not 
puffed up, doth not behave herself unse'emly, 
seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, 
and Ihinketh no evil.^ 

After ^Mrs. Smith had gone, Mrs. Watson' 
sent for her young friend, who proved to be 
our former acquaintance, Elinor Fulton. 

We will not pretend to say how long a time 
had elapsed since she was driven from the par- 
adise of fashionable life ; certainly enough to 
mature her appearance, and to give her that 
dignity of manner which arises from self- 
respect. 

‘ My dear Elinor,’ said Mi's. Watson, ‘ I want 
-you to go immediately and see how far Mrs. 
Smith is correct in her judgment as to this poor 


30 , 


ELINOR FULTON. 


family. There is wealth enough, and charity 
enough in this city, if it is ^ only properly so- 
licited, to aid the poor.’ 

Elinor did not seek to magnify her missio'n, 
by telling how busy she was, and how difficult 
she found it to leave home, — as she certainly 
might, for the care of the family devolved on 
her, — but cheerfully putting on her cloak and 
hood again, — for Elinor, unlike Lucinda, wore 
both when she went on errands, — set out on 
her exploring expedition. 

In a short time she returned to give the 
information she had gained. 

She had accurately made out her statement, 
had arranged the industrious earnings of the 
'family opposite their necessary expenses for 
rent, clothes, food, light, and fuel, and fully 
proved, that, though their daily labor was suf- 
ficient to eaable them to live from day to day 
in a state of health, when sickness came, noth- 
ing remained for such' exigences. 

‘ It was evident,’ Elinor said, ‘ they ha(^ no 
desire or habit of begging, and a little tempo- 
rary assistance was all that was needed, to save 
them from much suffering.’ 

Both Mr. and Mrs. Watson felt that this 


V 


r 


CHARITY. ' 31 

exact statement of the case was worth a hun- 
dred elaborate descriptions of their wants, and 
'pathetic appeals to the charity of the affluent. 
They presented it to a few ; judicious aid was 
given ; Mr. Beniis was put into a better way 
of earning a living ; and in a short time the 
family were again going on well, _ . 

There is in the simple truth an eloquence 
which reaches the heart. Would that this 
could be realized in the smaller, as well^sthe 
greater concerns of life ! Truth is the key to 
the human heart. Every one thinks it neces- 
sary to assume the appearance of truth. How 
much contrivance, manoeuvring, and waste of 
words would they save themselves, by adopt- 
ing the reality ! , ’ 

We embark on the ocean of life. Truth 
stands ready to be our guide; she tells us her 
course is a straight-forward one; yve doubt her 
power of carrying us in that way to the desired 
haven ;~ we know there are eddies and quick- 
sands, and winds and tides, and we think it 
better to steer sometimes to the right, and 
sometimes to the left ; at length, we get per- 
plexed, perhaps aground, perhaps shipwrecked. 


32 


ELINOR FULTON. 


Truth, in the mean while, has kept on her 
steady course ;-she has sometimes had to con- 
tend with winds and tides, but she never fails 
to reach her haven in safety. 



/ 




•n 


ACCOMMODATING TO THE MEANS. 33 


CH AxPTER III. 

ACCOMMODATING ONE’S-SELF TO THE MEANS. 

An arduous task had devolved upon Elinor 
F ulton ; it was not merely the care of the fam 
ily, of her brothers and sisters, but also of hei 
mother, who had become nervous and un 
happy, and was troubled with that disease 
which seems to spring almost exclusively from 
self-indulgence, and is the portion of the 
wealthy, ennui. Mrs. Fulton had this badge of 
former grandeur, when nothing else remained. 

- It would have been difficult, in her anxious face 
and languid eyes, to recognise the once cheer- 
ful and happy Jane ; still less in her daily con- 
versation. 

‘ I wonder,’ said she one day, for her time 
was filled with wondering and conjecturing, 

‘ what can be the reason we have not^heard 
from your poor father so long. Do you know, 
Ellen } I think he is sick.*^ 

‘You forget,’ said Ellen, ‘how bad the 
roads have been'. • It is hardly time to get 
another letter.’ 


34 


ELINOR FULTON. 


‘ I never shall be happy till we are together 
again,’ replied Jane; ‘nor do I see why we 
can’t be. If w'e can live /lere, w’e can live 
there. It is much cheaper living there ; every- 
body says so.’ ' ' 

‘ It is doubtful,’ said Ellen, ‘ how’ we should 
succeed; we find we can live here on the little 
we have ; to get there would cost a great 
deal. If my father thought it best, he would 
send for us; in the mean time, we must do all 
for ourselves, and not call upon him. Mr. 

'Watson says he has made some remittances 
towards paying his creditors. O, if we were 
once again free from debt, I wmuld not com- 
plain of any thing ! ’ 

‘ I should be as glad of that, as of any thing/ 
except being again with Frank. Do, Elinor, 
write to your father; tell him how miserable I 
am away from him. I am sure he could not 
be so cruel as to keep me in this state, if he 
knew how much I suffered. He was the kind- 
est husband in the world, and I was the hap- 
piest Avife, till that unfortunate ball. How I 
wish we had never given it ! ’ 

‘ O, mother,’ said Elinor, ‘ the ball was of 
little consequence, it only hastened — it was 


ACCOMMODATING TO THE MEANS. 35 

better, — ’ she stopped, for she had got on dif- 
ficult ground. ‘ It must be very hard to my 
father to be separated from you aqd his chil- 
dren. I think we ought not to make it harder 
by our impatience.’ 

‘ As if our being with him would not be a 
comfort to him ! ’ said Jane. ‘ How many things 
he must want done, that I was "in the habit 
of doing for him ! I am sure I can say, with 
truth, I never felt weariness or fatigue, if I 
could be serviceable to him. Often and often, 
when he was out, I have sat up till midnight, 
that he might not come' back to a -cold, deso- 
late home.’ ' 

‘ That must have been very hard for you, 
mother,’ sjaid Julia; ‘ there is nothing I dislike 
so much as waiting for people.’ 

‘ Hard ! ’ said Jane, ‘ these were the hap- 
piest days of my life ! You children remem- 
ber nothing about them. Would that they 
could come back again. ^ 

‘ That is the very thing my father is trying 
for,’ said Elinor; ‘ that he may qome back free 
from debt, and begin life again; you know he 
says so in almost every letter.’ 

‘ And then, mother, you can have the pleas- 


36 


ELIJfOR FULTON. 


ure of sitting up till midnight,’ said Julia, play- 
fully. 

‘You. talk like children, as you are,’ said 
Jane, ‘ compared to me, who have had so many 
years pass over my head, and have had so 
much experience ! ’ 

Jane had fallen into the error that many 
people do, of thinking age is experience ; that 
passing through a certain number of those 
events that crowd round our path, is experi- 
ence; whereas, it is not born of time, but of 
thought, of investigation. Like all other treas- 
ures of mind, we find it within. The foun- 
tain of wisdom lies deep in our own hearts, 
and it is there we must seek for it. 

Jane had gone through various vicissitudes; 
she had felt the happiness of honest ' indepen- 
dence, she had felt the harassing care of striv- 
ing to appear more wealthy than her means, 
and, sadly enough, had learnt the misery of 
living beyond the means; but all these were 
sources of practical knowledge, that she knew 
not how to bring home. 

It is this total want of application of events, 
that makes experience useless to most "people. 
It much resembles the everlasting reply of our 


ACCOMMODATING TO THE MEANS. 37 

kind friends, when we inquire if tliey know of 
anybody going to' one of our' sister cities, ‘ No ; 
but I know of somebody that went yesterday.’ 

The experience that does not form our char- 
acters is worthless; for, while we are acquir- 
ing it, the opportunity of using it is gone. 

Poor Jane had experienced the heartlessness 
of those to whom she had sacrificed the hon- 
est independence of life. She had given din- 
ners and parties to an ungrateful world ; and 
out of all her hopes and disappointments she 
made a sort of hodge-podge, that she called 
experience. ' ^ 

‘ I have always heard,’ continued Mrs. Ful- 
ton, ‘ that it is a great dea] worse for those who 
are left behind, than for those who go; and I 
am sure my experience proves it. Your father 
has new objects to amuse and interest him, 
and he entirely forgets .how I am condemned 
from morning to night to one spot, and with 
not a person to speak to ! ’ 

‘ Thank you, mamma,’ said Julia. Ellen too 
smiled. ‘You forget,’ said she, ‘Mr. and 
Mrs. Watson.’ 

‘ No, Ldo not; they are very kind, but they 
have moved in such a narrow sphere ! they 


38 


ELINOR FULTON. 


have no knowledge of the world, no experi- 
ence. I really sometimes wish I could have a 
little chat with Mrs. Reed; she certainly was 
very entertaining, and knew every thing.’ 

‘ I should think,’ said Elinor, ‘ she knew noth- 
ing that could help us in our present situation.’ 

‘ It is indeed deplorable ! God only can 
help us,’ said Jane, clasping her hands with 
an expression of melancholy, that she undoubt- 
edly mistook for piety. 

‘ God can, and will help us,’ replied Elinor ; 

‘ indeed, mother. He has helped us. Hus he 
not given us health, and the capacity of mak- 
ing our small means a sufficiency ? Let us 
only exert ourselves, and not call on my father 
for assistance, and all will go well.’- 

Such was the virtuous determination of 
Elinor. We enter not into the little details of 
her family arrangement's; how her garments de- 
syjended from the oldest to the youngest ; how 
they were lengthened when they became too 
short, even for the shortest; how cheerfully 
Elinor and Julia, with their two brothers', lived 
almost upon the Graham system, that their 
mother, whose health required a more nour- 
ishing diet, might have what was necessary 


ACCOMMODATING TO THE MEANS. 39 

It is said in (his day of perplexity, v/hen 
every one must have money, and there is no 
money to be had, that it would be an excellent 
thing to learn to live without means. 

Setting aside the aged and the helpless, such 
a situation can hardly be found. Who in this 
wide world, in this universal magazine, this , 
great store-house, cannot find means* for a liv- 
ing? There is no~honest, industrious, resolute 
individual, but can find means. Ye, who have 
been lingering on, hoping for better times, 
rouse up your energies, feel that you have that 
within, that may stir you up to the best pur- 
poses of life; resolve to find means; it may not 
be, that they will exactly correspond with your 
taste, but it is an honest living you are seek- 
ing, and the world is full of materials. 

^The very rocks and stones we tread upon, 
which nature scatters so liberally, may be con- 
verted into gold. They are hewn into a thou- 
sand forms, rise into the noblest structures, 
and are broken into the Macadamized pave- 
ment beneath our feet ! 

Water^, the free gift of Heaven, is not sufe 
fered to flow idly on, telling its history in gen- 
tle murmurs; it is made the source of wealth 


40 


ELINOR FULTON. 


and industry ; it turns wheels, it spouts forth 
in steam, and becomes a 'revenue for thou- 
sands. Turn which way you will, and the 
world is full of materials; but the^e materials 
must be converted into use by those who think, 
those who invent, and those who labor. And 
this includes every order of accountable beings 
that God'has created. 

It is the will of the Creator, that they should 
arrange themselves in natural orders. Let us, 
then, endeavor to find out to which we belong ; 
for in that class alone shall we be respectable 
arid useful. Probably much of the misery of 
life proceeds from mistaking the natural order 
for which we are created. ^ 

How happily these orders assist each other, 
we daily see proofs ; they are mutually impor- 
tant, and flow into each other. The working 
man has his seasons of thought, or ought to 
have; 

* Fok- he respect can ne’er deserve. 

Who hands alone to labor brings ; 

» * * * * ^ 

His mind vrith heavenly fire was warmed. 

That he with deepest thought might scan 
The work which his own hand has formed * 


ACCOMMODATING TO THE MEANS. 41 


He who unites in hims-clf the three orders' 
we have mentioned, however obscure may 
be his origin, will .carve out fame, and, with a 
common share of prudence, fortune ! Inven- 
tion, it is true, is a rare gift; but we must re- 
member that it is born of thought. There is 
no occupation that does not demand reflection, 
and there is only one class in our happy coun- 
try, that can be degraded to the situation of 
the peasantry in many parts of Europe, and 
that is the class of those 

‘ Who hands alone to labor bring.’ 

Our young friend, Elinor Fulton, happily 
united in her own character the three orders 
we have mentioned. The great may smile; 
but there is no household, however humble, 
that, to be well conducted, does not unite these 
three orders. Ellen rose eayly enough to give 
herself time for thought, and from this pro- 
ceeded many ingenious inventions, on a hum- 
ble scale to be sure, which made the labors of 
the day light. Perhaps the hardest part of her 
lot was ‘ administering to a mind diseased ’ ; 
for Mrs. Fulton, though yet in the prime of 
mature life, often said she ' was broken iip.’ 

, ' 4 


42 


ELINOR FULTON 


‘I do wish, Elinor,’ she' would t^ometimes 
say, ‘ yea would hot sit every evening mending 
old clothes ; it would be an amusement to me 
sometimes to play a game of backgammon/ 
Elinor did not say ‘there is nobody to mend 
them but me ’ ; but she said, ‘ Why, mother, 
you would not like to see Frank and George 
to-morrow going to school with their elbows 
out, or holes in their stockings.,’ 

Frequently, however, she put aside her work, - 
and played backgammon with her mother,' till 
Jane said, she had ‘ such bad luck, it was ho 
pleasure to play.’ Then Elinor resumed her* 
mending, which often kept her employed long 
after the family were asleep. 


OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 


43 


. . . CHAPTER IV. 

RENEWAL OF OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 

One morning, after the boys had gone to 
their free school, and Elinor and Julia had per- 
formed the various duties of household work, 
and were seated on each side of their mother, 
who was winding a skein of cotton on Julia’s 
hands, they observed a carriage stop near the 
door. A lady put down the window, and made 
inquiries of some one in the street. 

‘ It is Mrs. Reed,’ exclaimed Jane ; ‘she 
is coming here, I know ; what shall I do ?’ 
and she actually trembled. ' They all waited 
in silent suspense. At length the little brass 
knocker confirmed their suspicions. . - 
Elinor rose to go to the door. 

‘ Stop, Elinor, stop,’ said Mrs. Fulton, ‘ I can- 
not see her; you must say I am engaged;’ and 
again she repeated, ‘ What shall I do ? ’ 

‘ Dear mother,'’ said Elinor, with that quiet 
self-possession that restores it to another, 
‘ what if it is Mrs. Reed ? She is coming 
probably on some errand; she is nothing to us; 


44 


ELINOR I’ U L T 0 N , 


you know vve are in our own house, in Uncle 
Joshua^ s house ! ’ 

The last part of the sentence seemed to 
rouse Jane’s energy. Perhaps she run a par- 
allel in her own mind between the two char- 
acters of Uncle Joshua and Mrs. Reed ; for 
thought is as quick as lightning, we all know. 
‘You are right, Elinor,’ said she; ‘make 
haste; go to the door;’ arid, bracing herself up 
in her chair with an expression that seemed to 
say, ‘ Who is afraid ? ’ she awaited the visiter. 

Mrs. Reed, not expecting that Elinor would 
be her own porter, seemed a little surprised ; 
however, she pushed by her into the room. 

‘My dear Mrs. Fulton,’ said she, ‘how do 
you do ? what* an age since I have seen you ! ’ 

‘ It is a long time,’ said Jane, with tolerable 
calmness, though she was pale and red by 
turns. 

‘ And there is my friend Elinor, and little 
Jiilia too, I protest ! But we must not call 
Julia Utile now, she is as tall as my Fanny ! ’ 

‘ I hope Mr. Reed and all your family are 
well,’ said Jane. 

‘ O yes ; they all desire their compliments to 


OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 45 

you. .What a pleasant snug little room you 
have got! ’ said she, looking round. 

‘ We like to occupy this, when we are by 
ourselves,'’ said Jane. 

‘You are quite right; if you remember, I 
always did the same. A good manager saves 
her best room for company. I dare say Elinor 
knows all thfs,’ added she, for she observed 
Elinor and Julia look at each other. 

‘ VV^e have no company,’ said Elinor, cheer- ' 
fully. 

‘And so,’ said Julia, ‘we have the privilege 
of living in our best rooms ourselves.’ 

‘Well, that is all right,’ exclaimed the ac- 
commodating lady; ‘but now what do you 
think I have come for } ’ 

Neither of them spoke. 

‘ Why, I came at Mrs. Bradish’s desire; 
you know how fond she was of you, Mrs. Ful- 
ton. Well, she is now really dying to see you. 
She says there is nobody she likes so well, and 
you must put on your cloak and bonnet, and 
go with me to see her.’ 

‘ O, no,’ said Jane, ‘ I cannot go out.’ 

‘But you must; I came on purpose; Mrs. 
Bradish will be so disappointed; the ride will 


% 


46 ELINOR FULTON. - 

do you good, and I will bring you back to 
your own door.’ 

Strange as it may seem, Jane begun to 
yield, but a glance at Elinor restored her first 
resolution. 

You must excuse me,’ said she; ‘ it is not 
in my power to go.^ I am obliged to Mrs. 
Bradish, and I beg you will say so'; but I do 
not visit.’ 

Mrs. Heed seemed for a moment discour- 
aged, but, suddenly turning to Elinor, exclaim- 
ed, ‘ Then I will positively run away with your 
daughter. You cannot object to her going; 
you would not be such an unnatural mother ’ 

‘ No,’ said Jane; ‘ Elinor has but few amuse- 
ments; I have no objections; ’ and she secret- 
ly hoped she would go. 

Poor Jane ! her .experience, of which she 
so much boasted, had not taught her the folly 
of seeking the patronage of the rich; and yet 
what had it done for her, but involve her in * 
ruin ! 

‘ Run and get ready,’ said Mrs. Reed. 

‘I am very much engaged this morning;’ 
said Elinor, ‘ and it is not in our power to 
visit.’ 


OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 47 

This was said in a manner that silenced 
Mrs. Reed. 

Suddenly,' however, she exclaimed, looking 
round the room, ‘ What have you done with 
your.beautiful piano ? ^ ^ 

‘ It is in the other room,’ said Elinor. 

‘ Do let me have a look at it.’ 

Elinor hesitated a moment, for they made 
a sort of pantry of the other room; there, on 
a little pine table, was deposited the ‘daily 
bread, and there stood a pan of milk, the 
greatest luxury of this frugal family. 

Mrs. Reed, however, was not easily baffled, 
and Elinor in a moment conquered the feeling 
of pride that came over her, and led the yav 
Nothing could apparently have been more 
out of place, than the ‘ beautiful piano ’ ; it 
took up nearly one half of the. room, which 
was cold, cheerless, and unornamented. 

‘ What a splendid instrument ! ’ said Mrs. 
Reed, running her fingers over the keys; ‘ ah, ^ 
I remember what delightful sounds you drew 
from it. If it had been sold, I intended to 
have bought it for my Fanny. I thought, per- 
haps you could not afford to keep it.’ 


48 E L I N O R • F U L T 0 N . 

V 

Elinor colored, for she felt the implied 
reproach., 

‘Perhaps, madam,’ said she, ‘you did not 
know that this was given me by my father’s 
creditors ^ ’ 

‘O yes, I did; I knew all about it, but I 
suppose they thought you would dispose of it 
again.’ 

Elinor made no reply. 

‘ It was originally a superb instrument,’ said 
Mrs. Reed. ‘ 1 remember, when your mother 
told me she had bought it, I called her an 
extravagant little puss. It is rather old-fash- 
ioned now; still it would bring a very good 
price. What do you say, love ? suppose we 
strike up a 'bargain about it. Fanny would 
like it.’ ' 

‘No, madam,’ said Elinor, coldly,. ‘ I con- 
sider it as belonging to the family.’ 

‘ Just~as you please,’ said Mrs. Reed; ‘ I 
only mentioned it, because I thought it might 
accommodate you. It certainly makes an ele- 
vgant ornament for this liftle boudoir.’ 

‘ don’t agree with you,’ said 'Elinor, with 
spirit; ‘nothing could be more inconsistent 


OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 


49 


apparently, than the piano, with the room, and 
with our situation.’ 

‘ Why don’t you dispose of it, then } ’ said 
Mrs. Reed eagerly. 

‘I could not get so fine-toned a piano,’ re- 
■ plied Elinor, ‘ for the price I should get for 
this.’ 

‘ Apd you must have a piano ? Well, every- 
body has a right to do as 'they please; but 
candidly I -would advise you to sell it for the 
most you can get. I will give you afajr price. 
Come, I will make you an offer.’ 

. ‘ It would be useless,’ said Elinor; ‘I do 

not mean to dispose of it.’ 

Again Mrs. Reed passed her fingers over 
the keys of the piano; the sound seemed to 
give her fresh energy. 

‘ My dear Ellen,’ said she, ‘ I have always 
been a sincere friend to your family, or I 
should not say what I am going to say; but I 
am one of those that cannot help giving advice^ 
when I can serve my friends. Now people will 
always talk, and they are very apt to say disa- 
greeable things about extravagance, \vhen there 
is any change in one’s situation, &.c. &c ’ - 
5 


50 


ELINOR FULTON. 


Mrs. Reed had a peculiar faculty of mak 
ing and so forth mean more than she ven- 
tured to express. 

Elinor seeme'd to have some irresolution 
come over her; the tears actually started to 
her eyes; but she gave one convulsive sob and 
was cahn again, and stood silent as if waiting 
' for the end of the sentence. 

• ‘You know,* said Mrs. Reed, ‘I can have 
but one motive in this advice. I can buy a 
piano anywhere; but it would be a pleasure to 
me to serve you.’ 

Elinor did not say, ‘ I am much obliged 
to you;’ she was too sincere; but she said, 
‘ We will return, if you please; this room is 
very cold.’ 

When they went back, Mrs. Reed stayed 
but a short time; and, just as she was leaving, 
said, ‘ Do you know of any chambermaid that 
wants a place ? ’ 

Elinor thought of Lucinda, and mentioned 
that a girl who lived at Mrs. Hopkins’s, had 
applied‘to her. 

‘ What ! Mrs. Henry Hopkins ? ’ exclaimed 
Mrs. Reed. 


OLD ACQUAINTANCES. 


51 


‘ I really don’t know; the lady was a great 
invalid, when I saw the girl.’ 

‘ O, then it is she ; why, she lives in elegant 
style. It is a recommendation to have lived in 
such a place. I will find her out immediately. 

*I am rejoiced, my dear Mrs. Fulton, to see you 
again, and looking so well and happy. When 
you write to dear Dr. Fulton, remember me 
to him. He was a prodigious favorite of mine. 
To be honest, I always thought Mr. Reed was 
a little jealous of my admiration; but then 
your husband was so devoted to you, he had 
no eyes for anybody but his wife ’ 


52 


ELINOR FULTON . ' 


CHAPTER V, 

' A LETTER. i 

There are fevv ears, excepting ‘the dull, 
cold ear of death,’ which flattery does not 
enter. 

When Mrs. Reed had gone, Jane exclaimed, 

‘ I feel a great deal better for Mrs. Reed’s > 
visit. I wish, Elinor, we could afford to have 
company of an evening, the evenings are 
so long; 'but it is out of the question. Every- 
body knows that it costs a great deal to have 
company.’ 

‘ It does not cost a great deal, mother,’ said 
Julia', ‘to have such company as Mr.'and Mrs. 
Watson, and Henry Wardour, and they often 
come in and spend an evening with us.’ 

- O, yes; but I don’t call them company. I 
mean such company, as I used to keep; for 
instance, Mrs. Reed and Mrs. Bradish, and 
twenty others.’ 

^If the twenty others,’ said Elinor, ‘are 
like Mrs. Reed, may we be preserved from 
them ! ’ 


A LETTER. 


53 


* What do you mean ? ’ exclaimed Mrs. Ful- 
ton, looking at her with astonishment; ‘pray 
do you know any thing against her } ’ 

‘ I think she is a hard-hearted, selfish wo- 
man,’ said Elinor, resolutely. 

‘ I cannot approve,’ "said M-s. Fulton, ‘of 
your speaking of any one, much less of my 
friends, in this way.’ 

‘ Depend upon it, mother, she is not your 
friend,’ replied Elinor, ‘ or her visit here was 
not one of friendship, — it was one of curiosity; 
and then, too, she wants to purchase the piano.’ 
She now gave some account of her manoeu- 
vres, but suppressed her allusions to former 
extravagance. 

‘ Why did you not tell her at once,’ said 
Jane, ‘ that you gave lessons in music, and 
could not part with the piano on that ac- 
®ount ^ ’ 

Elinor was silent. ^ 

‘I don’t think,’ said Jane, meekly, ‘we 
ought to have any' pride about the matter.’ 

‘I hope, mother,’ said Elinor, ‘it was not 
pride that prevented my telling her; but her 
conversation and manners were so disagreea- 


54 


ELINOR FULTON. 


ble to me, that I was not willing to expose 
myself to her observations. I said as little 
as possible.’ 

‘ I do remember,’ said Jane, ‘that she was 
apt to say disagreeable things; but she cer- 
tainly was del’ghtful this morning.’ 

‘ I am sorry,’ said Elinor, ‘that I did not 
tell her; she may possibly attribute my silence 
to pride. I am very sorry; it was due to 
myself to declare the truth; she must have 
thought me very extravagant, to keep such an 
instrument for my own use.’ 

‘ Who cares what she thought ’ 'said Julia. 

‘I felt just so, Julia,’ said Elinor, ‘but it 
was wrong; for even your example and mine, 
humble as they are, may have some weight; 
at least we ought always to conduct ourselves 
as if we thought so.’ 

' ‘ It is an honor to Elinor, to play so well as 
she does,’ said Julia, ‘ and to be able to teach 
others.’ 

‘Certainly it is,’ said Mrs. Fulton; ‘but 
with all your exertions, it does not seem as if 
we grew any richer. We have only now the 
bare necessaries of life.’ 


A LETTER. 


55 


* If that is all/ said Elinor, ‘what would 
become of us without them ? But I think we 
have many of the comforts of life.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Julia; ‘and when spring 
comes, and Frank, and George, and I can 
work in the little garden, you shall have the 
luxuries, you shall have currants, and straw- 
berries; and Mary Davenport has given me 
some radish seeds, and you shall have radish- 
es as good as Mrs. Henry Hopkins, who, Mrs. 
Reed says, lives in such style.’ 

‘ You are dear, good children,’ said Jane, 

‘ and if your father was only with us, I should 
be willing to live on bread and water. If I 
could only go and see him, I should be willing 
to come back again if he thought it best for me ’ 
/At any rate, mother,’ said Elinor, ‘you 
could not go before spring, and perhaps, by 
that time, you may find the purse of Fortu-' 
natus in your work-basket ! ’ 

‘ Here comes Mr. Wardour,’ said Julia. ‘ I 
know by his looks he has got a letter for us. 
O, yes, he holds it up,’ and she ran to meet 
him. 

As it seemed to come so applicably to the 
conversation, we shall make an extract from it* 


56 ELINOR FULTON. 

.... ‘ You can have no idea, my .dearest 
Jane, of the deprivations that people must 
submit to, who settle in a new country. I 
live in a log-house, and my room, which is 
here called a' very good one, admits air and 
light in every direction'. My eye, at this mo- 
ment, can trace the trunk of a tree, between 
the logs which form one side of the house, till 
the branches begin. 

‘ The chimney lets down air and light, but 
is very rebellious about carrying up smoke; 
and then sometimes there comes a freshet, and 
we are obliged to' remove ourselves 'and chat- 
tels to another log-house, far inferior to this, 
which stands on a'‘little rising, that they call 
the mountain, and which we, in New Eng- 
land, should hardly call a hill. 

‘ The want of neatness is a trying affliction. 
The people I board with are clever in their 
way; but as the woman is half-Indian, you 
will not expect much refinement. 

‘ There are two or three shingled houses in 
the place, and more erecting; in time, I am 
sure it will be a thriving one. The climate Ig 
mild, the soil rich, and I have had success 
enough in banishing fever and ague, to make 


A LETTER. 


57 . 


me of- some importance. You must not think 
I 'do this, Jane, by gallipots, pill-boxes, or 
phials. No, here as everywhere, the radical 
causes of disease among the poor are dirt,' 
humidity, and intemperance. Now, you know, 
the only elixir for this is moral improvement; 
everywhere it is, the elixir vitce. I have done 
something, I hope, for the cause of good hab- 
its. *1 have prevailed on them to make their 
habitations dry, and at least to aim at cleanli- 
ness. I am now trying to prove to them it is 
for their interest to be temperate. 

‘ You will be surprised to hear that I have 
turned preacher ; yet I assure you we have 
regular meetings, and there is no other preach- 
er but myself I accommodate my addresses 
'as much as possible to their comprehension, 
and try to interest them. I have supplied my- 
self with the “ temperance tracts,” and I lend 
them one by one; and when they are brought 
back to me, I endeavor to add to their im- 
pressions by a few appropriate remarks. 

‘ In letters that I have received from partial 
fiends, they regret that my education and 
acquirements should be lost in this situation. 
They are mistaken ; it is the influence of 


58 ' ELINORFULTON. 

education which gives me power over this 
half-savage race. The animal strength of us, 
effeminate citizens, would avail us nothing 
among them ; it is by the power of mind 
alone that we can, help them. Strange as it 
may seem to you, I never till now felt that*I 
was turning to account whatever talents I have 
received. I sometimes feel as if this opportu- 
nity was given me to atone in some degree for 
my past errors. Indeed, Jane, this is just 
such a country as I deserve to be banished to; 
but for worlds I would not have you and my 
innocent children condemned to such priva- 
tions. You are sufferers from my extrava- 
gance and folly ; would that I could bear the 
penalty alone ! but God has planted us in fami- 
lies, and the misconduct of one member is felt 
through the whole. This ought to make us 
watchful of our habits and conduct, for no 
man can injure himself only, — he is accounta- 
ble to the community, and injures others at the 
same time. When I look back, it seems to me 
that I was under mental derangement; indeed, 
all vice is in one sense so; for no person in the 
exercise of his rational powers but would deem 
it insanity. 


A LETTER.- ' 69 ; 

' And now, Jane, I must write a little about 
my pecuniary prospects. There is no place 
where ^ a man can live with less money than 
here. I spend nothing comparatively on my 
own wants, and I am continually making ac- 
quisitions of land which must one day be valu- 
able. This place will command the naviga-, 
tion of three rivers, for it stands at the point 
where they meet. 

‘ In return for the services that I am doing 
here, I do not ask money, but land, of which 
they have more than they know what to do' 
with. I have already made some fortunate 
sales, and Mr. Watson will tell you I have 
done something towards paying my' debts.’ 


60 


E LINOR FULTON. 


CHAPTER VI. 

ONE SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 

We must now leave the Fultons, and follow 
Mrs. Reed, or rather go’ with her to Mrs. 
Bradish’s, where she finally stopped after exe- 
cuting a number of errands. 

When she arrived, she found morning vis- 
iters; and as she always loved a litth chat, she 
concluded to remain an- hour, and walk home. 

‘ I was in hopes to have brought Mrs. Ful- 
ton back with me to see you,’ said she, ad- 
dressing Mrs. Bradisli ; ‘ but she would not 
come.’ 

‘ Perhaps it is because I have not called 
upon her,’ replied Mrs. Bradish ; ‘ but how is 
she ? does she look as she used to do ? ’ 

‘Dreadfully altered,’ said Mrs. Reed ; ‘it' . 
made my heart ache to see her; you know she 
used to look so smiling and happy. She is now 
the image of gloom .and discontent,, and every 
thing so desolate, on such a contracted scale ! 

I am sure they are .paying bitterly for their 
extravagance ; but some people never will 


grow wise. You remember that elegant piano 
that they had ^ Well, would you believe it ? 
they have got it still, and mean to keep it, 
though they have not a room bigger than, your 
china closet to 'put 'it in.’ 

M suppose,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘it is the 
greatest pleasure that Elinor has, she was so 
fond of music, and certainly performed de- 
lightfully. The piano was given to her, and I 
think she is right to keep it.’ , 

‘So she thinks,’ said Mrs. Reed,, ‘though 
she has had an excellent offer for it, an offer 
that many would have been glad of ; but she 
prefers to keep it for her own amusement.’ 

‘ Are you quite sure that she keeps it for 
'her own amusement ? ’ asked a lady who sat 
the other side of the room. 

‘ Quite sure,’ said Mrs. Reed; ‘to be honest, 
it was I that offered to take it off her hands.’ 

‘ I believe she does not keep the piano 
merely for her own pleasure, however,’ said 
the lady who had just spoken, and whose name 
was Davenport. 

‘ What then can be her object .? ’ said Mrs. 
Reed. ' ^ . 

, ‘ To help support the family and educate 


62 


EI-INOR FULTON 


her brothers,’ replied Mrs. Davenport; ‘she 
gives lessons in music.’ 

‘ Are you quite sure } ’ said Mrs. Reed. 

/ Quite sure,’ replied Mrs. Davenport ; ‘ my 
daughters have taken lessons of her.for nearly 
a year, and they have made uncommon pro- 
gress.’ 

Mrs. Reed looked abashed, but it was only ' 
for a moment. ‘At any rate,’ said she, ‘a 
cheap piano would have done just as well.’ 

‘ I don’t think so, ’ said Mrs. Bradish. She 
now inquired more particularly of Mrs. Daven- 
port about Elinor’s mode of instruction, said 
she should be perfectly satisfied if Caroline 
could acquire her manner of touching the in- 
strument, and play and sing as well ; and she 
really thought, if Ellen would give her three 
daughters lessons, she should send them to 
her. 

With the most unblushing assurance, Mrs. 
Reed offered to negotiate the matter ; but 
Mrs. Bradish, whose faculties, though in a de- 
gree paralyzed by Indolence and luxury, were 
not annihilated, immediately declined, and re- 
quested Mrs. Davenport to speak to Eilen on 
the subject, at the same time saying, ‘ Ellen 


Ox\E SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 63 

had conducted herself in this matter con-> 
sistently with her character, for she had 
thought her one of the finest girls she ever 
knew.’ 

Other topics were liow introduced, and 
finally Mrs. Reed inquired if the ladies pres- 
ent knew of any good chambermaid they 
could recommend. The', answers were unsat- 
isfactory, and generally ended with, ‘ Do you 
know of any good cook, or seamstress, or 
nursery-maid, that wants a place ? ’ 

Then came the too frequent complaint, — 
domestics had got to a pass that could not 
be endured ; and Mrs. Reed said she really 
wished it was the fashion to have slaves. .. 

This observation excited so much horror, 
that she was obliged to compromise the matter 
by saying she did not mean black slaves, but ' 
to kite ones. 

‘ They are a pampered, worthless race,’ said 
she, ‘ and unless we put them down, they^will 
absolutely turn us out of our houses; and then 
what enormous wages they demand! they say, 
because every thing has risen, their wages 
must rise ; when it is the very reason they 
should be lowered. We give them food and 


64 ELIiNOR FULTON.* 

homes, and what do we get in return } Inso- 
lence and complaints ; and if we venture to 
hint that we don’t like this thing or that, they 
tell us we may look out for other help, and off 
they go. Why, I do assure you it is not 
at all uncommon for all of mine .to go off 
together, and then, of course, I am obliged 
to take just whom I can get.’ 

‘ I do not think they are so very bad,’ said 
Mrs. Bradish ; ‘not bad at all,’ added she. 

‘ O, you are no judge, my dear Mrs. Brad- 
ish,’ said Mrs. Reed ; ‘you are so amiable that 
your domestics do just what they please. If 
people would only take a proper stand, and 
act from principle, this class would find its 
level, and the odious system of liberty and' 
equal rights be done away. I can say, with 
truth, and I have' heard many say the same 
thing, that they make the misery of our lives. 
Now all this might be remedied, if people 
would only take a proper stand, and act from 
principle, as I do.’ 

‘ Yet,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘ your system does 
not appear to be so successful as might be 
wished ; you say they frequently all go off and 
leave you.’ ' 


O N.E SIDE OF THE Q-II E S T I O N . 65 

‘ Certainly,’ said Mrs. Reed, ‘ while they 
do just what is right in their own eyes at other 
places, they will not submit to any proper re- 
strictions with me', but if we could all unite, 
and agree to put down their insolence, we 
should soon see a change. They are an 
abominable pack, and there is no country 
in the world where people are so imposed 
upon as we are. They ought to be ground,’ 
continued she, warmed by her own eloquence, 
‘ground to powder.’ 

‘ I believe,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘we should 
find it quite impossible to perform an operation 
like this in our country ; .one head might be 
found to invent such a machine, but hands 
would be wanting to turn it. I must say I 
think there are a great many good domestics. 
What do you think, Mrs. Davenport ^ ’ 

‘ I can only say,’ replied she, ‘ that I have 
a large family, nine in number, and I have 
-three domestics to do the work, a chamber- 
maid, cook, and man-servant. On these I 
depend for the labor of my family, and it is 
cheerfully done.’ 

‘ I suppose you give the highest wages ? ’ 

6 


66 


ELINOR FULTON. 


‘ I give no extra wages, but such as are 
generally given, such as are given in every 
regular, respectable family; this thing, like all 
others, regulates itself. I always find, the way 
to make my domestics good is to make them 
happy and contented.’ 

‘ I must confess,’ said Mrs. Reed, ‘ I don’t 
set up for one of your pattern ladies.’ 

' ‘ And yet,’ said Mrs. Bradish, ‘ you seemed 
to be projecting a system of reform for us all 
just nov/.’ 

‘ O, one person cannot do every thing alone. 
We must work now-a-days by societies and 
combinations,’ said Mrs. -Reed. 

‘ It is not actually necessary,’ said Mrs. 
Davenport, ‘ to begin a good work in our own 
families, that we .should have others to co- 
operate. It is very desirable for the "general 
good of society, for the interest of mistresses 
of families and domestics, that a better state 
of things should prevail ; but we are not oblig- 
ed to suspend our own efforts till others think 
as we do. - If you have found out a system 
that will remedy these evils, you can begin to 
put it in operation in your own family, which 
is your little world.’ 


ONE SIDE OF THE QUESTION. G7 

* I have,’ said Mrs. Reed; ‘I do all in iny 
power to put them down.’ 

‘ And has it succeeded in promoting your 
comfort?’ 

- ‘ No, because I starjd in a manner alone. 
If others would cooperate with me, I should 
succeed perfectly.’ 

‘ [ confess,’ said Mrs. Davenport, ‘ I should 
doubt the excellence of any system that was 
only good in the whole. Every one can tell 
what promotes the- individual order and com- 
fort of their families. ' I agree with you that a 
difficulty prevails, and wish it might be reme- 
died; but 'I do not think this can be done by 
societies.’ 

‘ Pray how do you think it is to be done ? ’ 

Mn the first place,’ said Mrs. Davenport, 

* we must find out what causes the evil.’ 

‘That is easily done,’ replied Mrs. Reed 

* It is caused by their pride, insolence, waste- 
fulness, and ill-temper.’ 

‘ But this is only one side of the question,’ 
said Mrs. Davenport." ‘ Has it never occurred 
to you, that there is error on the other side? 
that mistresses of'families may sometimes err, 
and occasion these very faults ? For instance, 


68 E L I iV O n -F U L T O N . 

the insolence of which you complain so much, 
— people are seldom insolent to those who treat 
them kindly and affectionately.’ 

‘Affectionately ! ’ said Mrs. Reed, scornfully. 
‘ I suppose we must ask them to make us a 
cup of tea, if it is not too much, trouble, or to 
be so condescending as to wash us out a few 
clothes, if it will not fatigue them too much.’ 

‘ No,’ said Mrs. Davenport, ‘I believe they 
understand any improper condescension as 
well as they do any real solicitude or kindness 
for their welfare.’ ' « 

‘ Well, I must confess,’ said Mrs. Reed, ‘ I 
arn no radical ; I do not wish to level all or- 
-ders of society.’ 

‘ Neither do I,’ raplied .Mrs. Davenport; 
‘ but I must say, that I wish all orders of so- 
ciety to feel that there is a mutual bond be- 
tween them ; that ‘‘ the high and the low, the 
rich and 4;he poor meet together, and Ood is 
the Maker of them all.” ’ 

‘This sounds very well,’ said Mrs. Reed ; 
‘ but I must confess I have too much aristoc- 
racy in my disposition to adopt such opinions.’ 

‘ I think,’ said Mrs. Davenport, ‘ you have 
named the cause of much of this evil ; we 


ONE SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 69 

cherisji the ideas of the older countries, whose 
governments are aristocratical.’ ' 

‘ I do hope,* said Mrs. Bradish, who began 
to grow heartily tired of the conversation, 
‘that the (ime will, arrive, when ladies will 
have something to talk of, besides their domes- 
tics. -You have both of you talked very sensi- 
bly, — now let us drop the subject.’ 

• r. - ‘ ^ \ - 


^ r 






-fj * 





70 


ELINOR FULTON 


% 


‘ C H A P T E R . V 1 1 . 

THE OTHER «IDE OF THE QUESTION. 

, There are always two sides to a question ; 
— it is but fair to listen to what the other may 
have to say ; for this purpose we must once 
more repair to the Bemis’s ten-foot building, 
where Lucinda and several of her associates 
had agreed to hold a sort of female caucus. 

There was Susan, and Sally, and Mary, and 
one or two others, besides Lucinda. 

‘Who do you think,’ said the latter, ‘has 
been after me, to' get me to live with her ^ 
Mrs. Reed ! ’ 

‘ I hope you are not going ! ’ one and all 
exclaimed. 

‘ Not I ; they say it is one of the worst places 
in town, that she is the most proud, unreasona- 
ble woman that ever was, and gives her help 
no privileges. I took care to inquire her char- 
acter, as soon as she sent to me. I am sure I 
would not leave Mrs. Hopkins to go to her; 
it would be jumping out of the frying-pan into 
the fire.’ 


THE OTHER SIDE OF THE Cl U E S T I ON. 7 I 

‘ Why do you leave Mrs. Hopkins ? ’ was 
the next question.’ 

‘0,1 have a number of reasons; one -is, 
that she makes a fuss about our going out 
without asking leave, and we ^can’t put up 
with that now-a-days. Miss Porter, the cook, 
says she ’ll be buttered before she ’ll ask'leave.’ 

Several agreed with Miss Porter; but Sally 
said, ‘ Well, for my part, I am convinced that 
I ought to ask leave. I set up for not asking 
leave when I first went to Mrs. Davenport’s ; 
but she convinced me that it is but right, be- 
cause it may happen very inconvenient to have 
us gone.’ 

‘ Certainly it may,’ said Susan; ‘but then it 
often happens very inconvenient to us when 
they don’t go out,, and we expected they 
would.’ 

‘To be sure it, does,’ said Lucinda, ‘and 
it often happens very inconvenient to us, when 
they have company. They don’t consult our 
convenience, and why should we theirs? ’ 

‘ Well,’ said Sally, ‘ I have got a good place, 
and I mean to keep it.’ 

‘I suppose then,’ said Susan, ‘you have 
very little work to do.’ 


72 


ELINOR FULTON. 


‘ Yes,’ said Sally, ‘ I have a good deal of 
work.’ 

* Then you have as much company as you 
choose,’ said another. 

‘ No,’ said Sally, ‘ I have very little com- 
pany.’ ' 

‘ Then you go out a great deal.’ 

‘ No, for it is not convenient.’ 

‘ Well, I am sure,’ said Lucinda, ‘ I don’t 
see what makes you like your^place.’ 

‘ Nor I neither, exactly,’ said Sally; ‘ but I 
believe it is because I feel happy, and as if 
Mrs. Davenport was a friend to me and wants 
to make me happy. When I first came to 
Boston, T did not know hardly anybody, and as 
I wanted a place, I bethought me of the intel- 
ligence offices ; well, I went to two or three 
places, and I only stayed a month or two at each 
of them. At last I got to Mrs. Davenport’s, 
and then I was contented, and there I mean 
to stay.’ ' 

‘ I can’t understand yet,’ said Lucinda, 

‘ what, makes you like the place.’ ' 

‘-Why, it is because I love her,’ said Sally, 
after a moment’s thought. 

‘ That is a new reason under the sun,’ said 


s 


THE OTHER SIDE OF THE QUESTION. 73 

Lucinda. ‘ I am sure T never lived with any- 
body yet that I loved, or cared a hang for 
They hire us because they want help, and we 
live with them, and put up with a great deal 
because we want their money, and that is the 
long and the short of the matter.’ 

‘ You can’t think,’ said Sally, ‘ unless you 
have tried it, what a difference there is in liv- 
ing with somebody you like and somebody you 
don’t; I am sure I never think it a hardship to 
do any thing for Mrs. Davenport, any more 
than I should for my own mother.’ 

‘ I never saw but one of the gentry,’ said 
Lucinda, ‘ that I wanted to live with because 
Lliked her, and that was the Miss Fulton that 
used to come and see you, cousin Bemis, when 
you were sick. I did once ask her if she did 
not know of a place, in hopes she would say 
she wanted me herself ; but she said she did 
not know of a place. I should like to try for 
once living with a person I liked.’ 

‘ Perhaps,’ said Mrs. Bemis, ‘ Mrs. Fulton 
might take you, if you were to offer.’ 

‘I declare,’, said Lucinda, ‘I will go to- 
morrow and see her.’ 

‘ It is a mighty fashion for people to talk 
7 


74 


ELINOR F ULTON. 


against their help ; but I guess we can find 
full as much to say against them,’ said Susan. 

Then came forth many grievances, and they 
finally separated, with the exception of Sally, 
fully determined to push hostilities to a greater 
extent. 

As we have listened to both sides, it may be 
well to say more on the subject. 


DOMESTICS. 


75 


CHAPTER VIII. 

DOMESTICS. 

“Whenever any gfeneral evil prevails, it is those who are the' 
most enlightened who are most to blame.” 

A FEW years ago, several members of, our 
intelligent and benevolent community, fully 
impressed with the evil which exists between 
mistresses of families and domestics, and 
earnestly -desirous to remove it, after giving 
much thought to the subject, suggested a 
plan that appeared excellent. 

The general outline was, instituting an in- 
telligence office upon a different plan from 
what was in use. It was to be supported by 
individual subscriptions to defray all necessary 
expenses that might naturally arise. The 
managers were pledged to ascertam the char- 
acters of those that applied, who were not 
called upon, as at other intelligence offices, to 
pay for information. The subscribers were to 
be first supplied, and then, the overplus of do- 
mestics were to be distributed at large. As 
an inducement to remain in one place, and a 


76 


ELINOR FULTON. 


reward for good conduct, they were to receive 
compensation over and above the stipulated 
wages at the end of a certain number of 
V years. 

So far the plan appeared good ; but the 
event proved that it was hot calculated for 
our state of society. The case is the reverse 
here of what it is in older, countries ; good do- 
mestics are not seeking mistresses, but mis- 
tresses good domestics. It is no sooner known 
that a good domestic is about quitting a family 
from any casualty, such as breaking up house- 
keeping, or going abroad, than they have im- 
mediate applications. 

All complain of the scarcity of good help, 
and intelligence offices are resorted to by 
foreigners and strangers. Of course, many 
prejudices exist against them ; not because 
they are not good in themselves, but because 
they are rmt needed by first-rate domestics. 
It is common for them to say, ‘ I never yet 
went to an intelligence office for a place, and 
I never will.’ We leave it to those who are 
seeking domestics, to determine, whether much 
of the- same prejudice does not exist on the 


DOMESTICS. 


77 


other side, and whether intelligence offices 
are not usually considered as a last resource. 

One of the important objects for which 
this institution was intended, then, did not 
exist. There is no want of places for good 
domestics. On the other hand, it was no aid 
to those who'' wanted them, for they never 
. applied. Our city is not yet so large, but 
' that it may be compared to a whispering gal- 
lery. Intelligence flies from one end to the 
other with incredible swiftness. If a family 
is going to Europe, we hear of it Ipng before 
they have made any arrangements ; and then 
their domestics are considered as open to the 
first bidder. If a good place is in want of 
help, it is immediately known. 

This system of a free! intelligence office ' 
was likewise considered by those for whom it 
was intended, as one of patronage and protec- 
tion, at which they spurned. They did not 
choose to have places allotted to tliem. — 

‘ Thank Heaven, they had “tongues of their 
own, and they would choose for therpselves.’ 

We believe few stayed long enough to se- 
cure the bonus, and in a short time the plan 
was given u}>, much to the triumph of the 


78 


' ELINOR F ULTON. 


other intelligence offices, which had confident- 
ly predicted that ‘ it would never succeed.’ 
These are often blessings to the poor houseless 
emigrants that come to our shores ; _ and the 
best chance of getting good Irish servants, or 
indeed foreign ones of any kind, is probably at 
intelligence offices. 

We hope and believe, that in our city these 
offices are in the hands of honest, upright 
people. While, like most other occupations, 
they are assumed for a living, let them act up 
to what they profess, and be scrupulous on 
both sides in their recommendations. 

The plan projected then by this society was 
not adapted to our wants, nor to the spirit of 
the community * nor do we think it was calcu- 
lated to remove existing evils. The frequent 
change of domestics is certainly one; but what 
family would wish to retain a discontented 
member, even with the intention of bestow- 
ing an additional reward at the end of a cer- 
tain time ? Neither will they stay for it ; 
it has been tried by respectable individuals 
without cooperation, and has not succeeded. 
The only way we can secure their services for 
any length of time, is to make it a willing ser 


DOMESTICS. 


79 


vice. This carries me back to Mrs. Daven- 
port’s suggestion : the fault may be, in some 
degree, on the part of mistresses of families. 

Let us patiently investigate the matter. We 
hire them for specific purposes; perhaps for 
chamber-work, perhaps for cooking, perhaps 
for needle-work; and possibly, meaning to pre- 
pare for every exigence, we stipulate that we 
expect them to do whatever we may require. 

Yet with all this stipulation, there is much 
that comes into their services which cannot be 
specified. If we have sickness in our families, 
how many times they go up and down, perhaps 
three flights of stairs ! How frequently they 
are called from their regular employments, to 
prepare for accidental company ! how often 
obliged to sit up late at night, perhaps after a 
hard day’s work, for members of the family, 
who are recreating themselves at a ball ! 
Then, too, they have their days of lassitude, 
of headache, their sleepless nights. They 
take cold as we do, and, like us, are subject to 
‘ the ills that flesh is heir to.’ 

All this must be, nor would vve, with a sickly 
sensibility, mourn over it ; it is the order of 
society. But we ought to bear it all in mind, 


80 


ET.IfJOR FULTON. 


and strive to make their labors as cheerful as 
possible, by our sympathy, our care, and, 
I will venture to say (notwithstanding Mrs. 
Reed’s astonishment), our affection. No^ one 
can have any high degree of virtue, without 
self-respect ; it is the twin-sister of virtue. 
Domestics must be taught to feel the responsi- 
bility of their situation ; that they are mem- 
bers of the family in which they live ; to feel 
that the domestic roof is their sanctuary. 

It may be said, that this system is a level- 
ling one; but can there be a more levelling one 
than now prevails ? when the mistress has 
sometimes been told, ‘ If she does not like 
the work, as done, she may do it herself’ } 

It is only by enlightening them, that we can 
teach them the respectability of proper subor- 
dination. 

How many intelligent girls come to our city 
from the comfortable and independent homes 
of their parents in the country ! Mayhap they 
have a desire to see more of the world, or they 
have worked in factories, and find it does not 
agree with their health ; they descend from 
the honest independent yeomanry of our coun- 
try, and come breathing the spirit of their 


DOMESTICS. 


'81 


fathers. These are the most impatient of com- 
mand, and yet are the most readily wrought 
upon through their reason and affections. 
Convince them through their reason, or win 
them tlirough their affections, and they be- 
come tractable and devoted. 

Mrs. Reed said she had too much aristocra- 
cy for such opinions. What have we to do 
with aristocracy ^ Is it the spirit of our coun- 
try ? our constitution ? Did our forefathers 
talk of aristocracy ? Was it to establish 
an aristocracy, that they fought and bled ? 
and must we cling to the habits and notions 
of the country, whose yoke we have thrown 
off*.? 

Liberty has set her foot on our shore, and 
she is now not to be restricted in her walks. 
If we were not willing to receive her, why 
did we fight for her ? At any rate it is too late 
to circumscribe her walks .? She is ours ! all 
classes, as classes, claim her ; all contend for 
what they think just and equal. There can 
be no system of unrequited labor, no heredi- 
tary bondage in our happy New England. 
There may be subordination, and there must 
be, if we would have order or government ; 


82 


ELINOR FULTOxV. 


but it is the subordination of the free and will- 
ing mind. And here'lies our strength ; not 
in money, for every day proves, that those who 
give the highest, or rather extra wages, change 
domestics the oftenest. Here lies our advan- 
tage, and it is better than all the feudal aris- 
tocracy of ancient days. This is a power that 
exists wholly on our side ; we can encourage, 
animate, guide, and reward our domestics 
We have the opportunity of binding them to 
our interest, by respecting their interests ; by 
soothing their sorrows, watching over them in 
sickness, and guiding them by our counsel. 
They may view us as friends, or task-masters; 
they may be attracted; or repelled ; they may 
love, or hate us. There is one eternal foun- 
tain from which we may all draw, and that is 
nature and' truth, — and wo be to those, who 
convert its waters to bitterness ! 

It is justly said, ‘’that when any -general 
, evil prevails in any country, it is the most en- 
lightened who are most to blame.’ 

• The present state of domestics is thought to 
be a general evil. Some say, there is a state 
of warfare existing between the two classes so 
necessary to each other’s comfort 


DOMESTICS. 


83 


There is one thing, however, to be consid- 
ered, — that families, with the present habits 
of society, cannot do without domestics ; but 
domestics can do without them. They come, 
because they prefer the situation to more la- 
borious toil. If they are received with kind- 
ness, they will become attached, if there is 
any good in them ; and, if not, the sooner we 
are rid of them the better. 

It must be acknowledged, that, with their 
present state of feelings, they often do not 
stay long enough in a really excellent family, 
to become attached ; they take umbrage at 
some trifling thing,* and gooff. How much 
they stand in' their own light, they will learn 
by experience. A domestic, who has been a 
long resident in a family, becomes an object of 
respect and affection, and is only inferior to 
the heads of it in her importance to its happi- 
ness. There are bonds formed strong and 
lasting, and that death alone severs. 

It is impossible, between domestics and 
families, that many gratuitous services should 
not be necessary on both sides; these, so far 
from occasioning murmuring and dissatisfac- 


84 


ELINOR FULTON. 


tion, should be made bonds of union, as iu all 
other relative situations. 

We have' arrived at that period, when there 
is no putting a padlock on the human mind; 
every one is contending for his rights, every 
one ready to strike for them. We must con- 
form to the state of society in all our compacts. 

If domestics know their own happiness and 
respectability, they will perceive the propriety 
of subordination; for it is necessary and hon- 
orable. They will feel how much they lower 
themselves by insolence and ill-nature. We 
often see instances of their just discrimina- 
tion as to character; how quickly they' detect 
the affectation of gentility. The same per- 
ception helps them with regard to themselves; 
they know what is right and proper, but are 
sometimes irritated to insolence. 

It is most earnestly to be wished, that a dif- 
ferent state of things should prevail ; but it 
cannot be done by societies or cooperation — 
it must be done by individuals. It must be 
done by the strong Christian ties that unite 
families. Both sides must feel their obliga- 
tions ; but it is the most enlightened that must 
begin the work. Perhaps it is not just to say 


DOMESTICS. 


85 


it cannot be done by cooperation, for it is co- 
operation we need ; the cooperation of both 
sides, — of those who are employed and those 
who employ them. 

Our obligations are mutual; if we can once 
realize this great truth, the evil will be done 
awa^. ‘ We are all members of one body.’ 
Shall the feet refuse to perform their office, 
’because they are placed lower than the hands. ^ 

It is moral obligation we want, that which 
springs from the religion we profess to cherish. 
W ere this great principle observed, the duties 
on both sides would be in agreement, and do- 
mestic union and harmony would flow from 
them. There is no position more favorable 
to such a state than ours. Our rights on both 
sides are carefully guarded ; there may be 
anarchy, but there can be no oppression. 

We are all ‘servants of one Master’; let 
UG faithfully perform our relative duties ; ‘ Let 
us love one another, for love is of God.’ 

We have dwelt on this subject perhaps too 
long for the patience of our readers ; but it is 
one of the most important that belongs to 
domestic life ; every mind and every heart 
is bound to bring its tributary stores. The 


86 


ELINOR FULTON. 


humblest and the most obscure has its individ- 
ual influence. - Let it be exerted to remove this 
evil from our land. 


87 


A MUTUAL EXPERIMENT. 


CHAPTER IX. 

A MUTUAL EXPERIMENT. 

Lucinda, in pursuance of her determination, 
soon after the conversation at Mrs. Bemis’s, 
went to see Elinor. * , 

‘I come,’ said she, * to know if you have 
heard of any place that you could recommend 
to me.’ 

‘ I know of several people who are in want 
of chambermaids,’ replied Elinor. 

‘ What wages do they give, and what 'prxm- ' 
leges ? ’ 

‘ I did not ask ; it is only by accident I have 
heard of them. I mentioned you to Mrs. 
Reed’.’ 

‘ O, yes, she sent to me; but I have partic- 
ular reasons for not going there.’ 

Elinor looked impatient to be gone. 

‘ I have inquired her character,’ added Lu- 
cinda, * and I should not like to go there. I 
have thought. Miss Fulton, perhaps you might 
be in want of help now yourself, and would 


88 


ELINOR FULTON. 


like to have me come upon trial; you know if 
we don’t like, we can separate.’ 

' ‘ We do not want a, chambermaid or a 
cook,’ said Elinor, with a smile; ‘ we are sup- 
plied with both;' or, in other words, we do our 
work ourselves.’ 

am sure,’ said Lucinda, with a tone of 
feeling, ‘your hands don’t look as if they were 
made to work.’ 

‘ I believe no hands were made to be idle,’ 
said Ellen. 

‘ I wish,’ said Lucinda, ‘ you would try me 
I would come for low wages and privileges/ 

‘ What privileges } ’ said Elinor, looking 
surprised. 

' ‘ Why, I should like to have the afternoon 
to myself, to do as I pleased.’ 

‘That would be very inconvenient to us,’ 
replied Elinor, ‘ and not good for you. I 
would advise you to try to get a good place, 
good wages, and. feel that your time belongs to 
the family you are with, except such recreation 
as is reasonable. It is the only way you can 
take an interest in your place, and feel happy.’ 

‘It is not all wages,’ sai(f Lucinda; ‘ I am 
particular about my place. I could stay at 


A MUTUAL E X T E 11 I ISl E N T. 


80 


Mrs. Hopkins’s, and she gives as high wages 
as anybody ; but there are things I do not 
like. I cannot stir out without asking leave.’ 

‘ I should doubt whether you could stay in 
any well-regulated family, if that is your ob- 
jection. I am sure you could not here ; for 
my mother would not take anybody on those 
terms,’ 

‘ I am willing to ask leave, if I am treated 
properly. But the day I went to Mrs. Hop- 
kinses, I only run out after dinner, to see 
about having my trunk and bandbox brought; 
and she happened to find it out, and so she 
called me up stairs, and said, “she did not 
choose her servants should _ go out without 
leave.” ’ This was said in a way that gave a 
very good idea of the lady’s manner. ‘ I should 
^ as lief ask as not, if they spoke properly.’ 

‘ Then it was only the manner,’ said Elinor. 

‘ I am glad of that, because it would be very 
unreasonable to expect to go out when you 
pleased^ let it be ever so inconvenient; and 
only the mistress of the family can be the judge 
wh'en she can spare you. I am sure no rea- 
sonaole person would be unwilling that her 
8 


90 


E L I N R F U L T 0 2^ . 


'domestics should have the privilege of going 
out occasionally.’ 

‘ I do wish,’ said Lucinda, ‘ I could live with 
you. Sarah Tool says it is a heaven upon 
earth, to live with anybody you like.. I wish 
I could try it for once. You don’t do your 
washing, do you ? ’ 

‘No,’ said Elinor; ‘ we hire that.’ 

‘ What does it cost you ? ’ 

‘ A dollar a week.’ . " 

Lucinda’s honest, blooming face discovered 
the workings of her mind. Suddenly striking 
her hand upon her lap, she exclaimed, ‘ I will 
come for that, if you cannot afford to give any 
more, and then I can do your washing, and 
other work beside.’ 

‘I am afraid, Lucinda,’ said Elinor, ‘you 
would not be contented with our fare ; we live 
very simply.’ 

‘ I am willing to live on what you do,’ said 
Lucinda. 

‘ I will ask my mother,’ said Elinor, who 
began to feel a strong interest in the girl. ‘ If 
you continue in the same mind, you may come 
to me in a day or two, and I will let you know 
our decision.’ ' 


A MUTUAL EXPERIMENT. 91 

Mrs. Fulton had long been proposing that 
they should have a domestic ; but Elinor had 
been unwilling to increase their expenses, and 
had made it a study that her mother should not 
feel the want of any services to which she had 
been accustomed. This she had so completely 
done, that Jane was hardly aware of the con- 
stant sacrifices that Elinor was making for 
her. 

Neither luxury, nor the sudden reverse that 
she had experienced, had wholly changed 
.Jane’s nature; she was still affectionate and 
disinterested, but it was only something, un- 
common that roused her to exertion. If either 
of her children were indisposed, she was again 
the fond, watchful, anxious mother; she was 
no longer nervous and unhappy, and could sit 
by their bedside till the morning dawned ; but 
when her fear ceased, her activity ceased with 
it. When Elinor mentioned Lucinda, she be- 
came eager to try her. 

Elinor’s piano was the principal support 
of the family. Happily that accomplishment 
had not. been cultivated superficially. She was 
able to teach well, and her fine voice, good 


92 


ELINOR FULTON, 


taste, and expression gave a peculiar charm 
to her music. 

With an assistant for family work, she would 
have time to devote herself to teaching music. 
Under all these circumstances, with the ad- 
vice of Mrs. Watson, she concluded to take 
Lucinda, 

After proper inquiries at places where she 
had lived, which were very discouraging, as she 
was generally "said to be very high-tempered, 
though capable, and not whiling to submit to 
any rules, Elinor ascertained with some dif- 
ficulty that she was honest and neat ; and in 
a short time Lucinda was installed in her 
office. 

It proved to be just such a place as she liked; 
there was no rebellion, for nothing unreasona- 
ble was demanded. She soon felt like one of 
the family, and talked of aur children, and our 
young lady! When she saw how frugally they 
all lived, and what necessary exertions were 
making, she became interested to contribute 
her part in the domestic economy. 

‘ It is strange,’ said Elinor, ‘ that those with 
whom Lucinda has lived, have never found out 
her character.’ 


A MUTUAL EXPERIMENT. 


93 


‘ O,’ said Mrs. Fulton, ‘ ladies in fashiona- 
ble life do not think about the character of 
their domestics; they have other things to at- 
tend to.’ 

‘If they did,’ said Elinor, ‘they would 
make them better and happier, and find their 
own comfort in it. Our good and bad depend 
much on circumstances.’ 

‘Yes,’ said Jane, ‘I know that by expe- 
rience. ' Ah ! Ellen, mine is a melancholy 
story ! ’ 

‘ I am convinced,’ said Elinor, ‘ it will have 
a happy ending. I have something now to tell 
you, that I am sure will please you. Here is 
a very kind note from Mrs. Bradish, requesting 
me to instruct her three daughters in music.’ 

Jane’s eyes s’parkled as they used to do, as 
she exclaimed, ‘'O, how fortunate ! we shall 
now renew our acquaintance with her'.’ 

‘ It is not that,’ replied Elinor, ‘ that makes' 
me so happy ; but you know Mr. Bradish is my 
father-’s chief creditor. I can now be^doing 
something towards paying the debt.’ 

‘ It'will be but a drop in the ocean,’ said 
Jane,^ shaking her head. ‘ There are other 


94 


ELINOR FULTON. 


debts that hang much heavier on my con- 
science.’ 

‘ What are they ? ’ said Elinor, eagerly. 

‘ They are former household bills for articles 
of daily consumption ; bread, milk, fuel, &c. 
Mrs. Watson once spoke to me about them. 
These are from hard-working people, and can 
poorly afford to lose their money.’ 

‘ Let me see them,’ said Elinor; ' if we can- 
not pay them, and retain Lucinda, we must 
part with her.” 

Mrs. Fulton took out her little pocket-book; 
the bills were carefully rolled up together, and 
on the envelop was written, in her mother’s 
hand, ‘Bills unpaid, in consequence of extrav- 
agance.^ ‘ O, Elinor, I have shed many tears 
over them.’ 

Elinor’s eyes, too, were filled with tears 
‘ Dear mother,’ said she, ‘ let me have them.’ 

In the afternoon she returned them to her 
mother. ‘ Look at them,’ said she. They were 
all receipted, and the respective names signed. 

‘ Did I not tell you,’ said Elinor, embracing 
her, ‘ that you would find the purse of Fortu- 
natus in your work-basket. Now one load is 
removed from your mind ; only summon your 


f.v - 

A MUTUAL EXPERIMENT. 95 

resolution, and all will go well.’ The bills had 
been paid from the sum Elinor had gained by 
her musical instruction. 

Could any mother resist the influence of 
such a daughter ? Since Lucinda had come, 
Elinor had more time to devote to her mother, 
to read to her, and to converse with her. By 
degrees her mind resumed a more healthy 
state. She began to engage in the domestic 
affairs, and was quite willing to assist Lucinda, 
till the latter, with something of her former 
manner, said she hindered her more than she 
helped her.’ 

Then she offered to hear the children say 
their lessons, and said she certainly might 
prove as good an assistant, as Mrs. Reed’s 
chambermaid ; but this Elinor declined, as it 
was peculiarly her business. Still there was. 
enough left for Jane, that she could do well ; 
for how many little nameless occupations come 
into a well regulated household. As she grew 
industrious, she grew cheerful, and the heavy 
cloud seemed breaking away. She wrote such 
letters to her husband as were calculated to 
excite in him new resolution. 

Was Elinor’s lot a hard one ? She never 


96 


E 1. I N O R FULTON. 


visited, she had nothing that the wealthy call 
recreation. She never rode, she never went 
to the theatre or to parties; and yet she was 
always occupied, and always happy. The ed- 
ucation of her brothers and her younger sister 
had been a source of delightful interest to her. 
Julia had now grown to be a friend and com- 
panion. Lucinda had lightened their labors, 
and become an object of affection to them all. 
To Ellen she was the most devoted of beings; 
and often said, everybody found their right 
place at last. 

Poverty no longer stared them in the f^ce ;> 
the seasons, in their round, had brought the 
luxuries of their little garden, with its fruits and 
vegetables. Their mode of living was still as 
frugal as possible, and habit had made self- 
denial easy. The spirit of Uncle Joshua 
seemed to pervade the little household. 

Elinor’s musical scholars had so much in- . 
creased, that she had been obliged to form them > 
into classes. Yet no addition of means could 
induce her to increase the expenses of the 
family. She said the casualties of sickness 
might arrive, and till they were free from debt, 
they had no right to any luxuries. 


A MUTUAL EXPERIMENT. 97 

Mr. Watson had looked on, and judiciously 
forbore to interfere ; yet he was not idle in 
their cause. His timely arrangements, his 
humane and just representations, were not 
without effect. 

Another year passed away in these virtuous 
efforts of this little family.^ 




98 


ELINOR FULTON. 


CHAPTERS. 

BRIGHTER PROSPECTS. 

How fast time moves ! Six years had gone 
by, since these eventful changes had taken 
place. About this time, a meeting was called 
by Dr. Fulton’s creditors ; his remittances, 
though small, had been constant. A mutual 
agreement was made by them, to sign a paper 
releasing him from all further demands. 

Let not the humblest individual who is add- 
ing his mite to the diffusion of moral good- 
ness, feel that it is worthless. It is impossible 
to say how much influence Ellen’s self-denying 
efforts might have had upon the minds of her 
father’s creditors. Mr. Bradish was well ac- 
quainted with them, and he had not heard the 
story, unmoved. - 

' With what joy did Mr. Watson hasten to 
inform Mrs. Fulton and Elinor of this humane 
Resolution. 

Elinor received the intelligence with thank- 
fulness and tears. Her heart rose in gratitude 
to the Father of every good gift, to Him who 


BRIGHTER PROSPECTS. ^99 

can break the chains of the oppressed, and let 
the prisoner go free ! 

Jane received it with rapture, and her heart 
turned to her husband. ‘ Now, ’ she exclaimed, 
‘he can come back to us, and I shall once 
more be happy ! ’ 

As she wrote to him immediately, and ex- 
pressed this conviction, we give his answer: — 

‘ You may believe, my dear Jane, there 
never was a brighter sun to me, than the one 
that rose this morning; for it was last evening 
that I received your and Mr. Watson’s letters, 
with the joyful information they contained. 

‘ For a moment I felt,' like you, that all ob- 
stacles were removed to my return. Debt ! 
how does that word freeze the life-blood of the 
heart ! Mine now flows freely, in its natural 
current ; and after a night of thought, not of 
sleep, I am capable, I hope, of answering you 
jpstly. When I left Boston,, it was with a 
feeling of shame and disgrace^; I wished, lit- 
erally, as I crossed the Alleghanies, that the 
mountains might fall upon me and cover me. 
This feeling by degrees yielded to honest in- 
dustry. For years I have appropriated all my 


100 


ELINOR FULTON. 


gains to paying inj debts. Ellen has always 
written me, that you had the necessarie'^ of life, 
and that was all that I thought, in justice, I 
could expect for myself or family. I know, what 
your deprivations have been, and I knov/ what 
our dear Elinor lias been doing for us. PvTr. 
Watson has informed me of ail, from time to 
time. At length this v/eight is removed from 
my heart ; my creditors have generously ac- 
quitted me, and Mr. Bradish has written me a ' 
friendly and encouraging letter. I am fully 
sensible, however, that all this is a free gift ; 

I have no right to it. My creditors have 're- 
leased me, in the full belief, that, however T 
have wandered from the right path, I have 
been seeking to regain it. They have done 
it to assist-my endeavors. I should feel as if 
I had disappointed their intentions, as if I 
were undoing five years of -exertion, and, I 
may venture to say, hardship, if I were now 
to return penniless to my^ family.* When .1 
can come back to you with even a small sum, 

I will come; and, with that and my profession, 

I shall feel as if I might once more lake an 
honorable' stand in society. Do not be dis- 


1 


BRIGHTER PROSPECTS. 101 

heartened ; the time will arrive before you 
think of it. 

‘ Yovi say it would have been better if we ' 
had never separated. How can it be better 
than it is ? How slight have been my penal- 
ties compared to my transgressions ! Not for 
a thousand such worlds as this, would I have 
seen you undergo the hardships of a new set- 
tlement. A man may choose his own lot, and 
go where he pleases ; he may settle on the 
swampy shores of the Mississippi ; he may 
contend with fever and ague ; he may live 
among a race of half-blood Indians, who guard 
their property by rifles and bull-dogs; he may 
do all this, and many men deserve it ; — but 
women and children, — God preserve them 
from such a lot ! 

‘ There was a time when my profession 
gave us the luxuries of life ; I am confident 
there is no situation in which it will not give 
us the bare necessaries. 

‘ I often look back upon my own mad 
career. It was a fearful experiment, destitute 
as I was, when we first began life ; one, per- 
-haps, which no wise man ought to make ; yet 
Heaven smiled upon us, and we were success- 


102 


ELINOR FULTON. 


ful. In many of your former letters, my dear 
Jane, you are willing to think yourself equally 
to blame with me, in the events that followed; 
but that is not the case. A man knows his 
resources ; a woman seldom knows or under- 
stands them. He tells her in vague words he 
cannot afford this expense or that ; but yet 
apparently he acts inconsistently and often 
does so in reality ; he indulges his taste, and 
it is one that often seems to her extravagant. 
Her confidence is weakened, even where her 
affection is strong, and her wants increase 
proportionably to his. Since we parted, my , 
mind has sometimes been in a state of despair, 
and then I have found in' healthful industry 
new vigor. How can any one despair to- 
day, when to-morrow may change his whole 
destiny ! and, on the other hand, how can 
any one be presumptuous, when the very ele- 
ments, that have produced his success, may 
annihilate it ! This is an admirably con- 
structed world, and it was made for the beings 
that inhabit it; that no one may despair and no 
one presume, but every one use his best en- 
deavors, and leave the rest to Providence. 

‘ I remember well, Jane, I was sometimes 


BRIGHTER PROSPECTS. " 103 

petulant and unkind ; but I was far less dis- 
satisfied with you than with myself. I could 
not escape from my sense of duty, and I knew 
I was not acting consistently with it. A 
man’s conscience begins life with him; if he 
does not keep friends with it, he is continually 
at warfare with this principle within. He can- 
not be happy unless he respects himself, and 
retains the feeling that others respect him. 
If he has this feeling, he is satisfied; he asks 
no outward proofs, — if they come, he is 
grateful for them; if they are denied, he has 
the consciousness of deserving them, and that 
is enough for peace of mind. 

‘ How many truths have I treasured up for 
my boys, gleaned from mj^ own experience ! 
When will the happy time arrive that I may 
impart them, not in this dull forma.1 way on 
paper, but by word of mouth, surrounded by 
the family group, and mingling them with 
anecdotes of this strange country, and the 
strange beings among whom I live ! ’ 


104 


ELINOR FULTON. 


CHAPTER XI. 

THE PURSE OF FORTDNATUS. 

'Though the human mind can never stag- 
nate for want of motives, yet all nature has its 
seasons of rest. The husbandman plants his 
seed, and waits for the harvest ; the merchant 
sends out his ships, and waits their return ; all 
vocations have their every-day labors, and 
their seasons of rest and tranquillity. 

Elinor might be said to have arrived at a 
period of tranquillity. Not that her exertions 
were suspended ; but she no longer felt the 
wearing anxiety of providing for the next 
week. Her purse she had truly named the 
purse of Fortunatus. Though never full, it 
always had something in it for emergences, 
and this little store was never drawn upon for 
a single luxury. This was Ellen’s honest com- 
petency. Without this 'resource she would 
have felt poor ; with it, she always felt rich. 

And such a competency every woman, with 
but few exceptions, may possess. It may not 
be in thoupnds, or even in hundreds; but she 


THE PURSE OF FORTUNATUS. 105 

may always keep a small part of her earnings 
untouched. What is a new bonnet; or a new 
pelisse, to the pleasure of feeling there is 
something in reserve that you may call your 
own ! Blessings on the Savings Bank ! It is 
truly, to those who resolutely deposit their 
earnings there, the purse of Fortunatus ; for 
in no very long course of years the sum be- 
comes doubled. ' 

For years, Elinor had hoped to be rich 
enough to enable her mother to visit her fa- 
ther; but now Jane was contented to await the 
period of his coming, and this sum was ap- 
propriated to the .education of her younger 
brothers, not with the view of making them 
physicians, lawyers, or ministers, but of giving 
them such knowledge as would qualify them 
for any station of life, — ;such as would be a 
foundation for professional, mercantile, or me- 
chanical pursuits,. — such as would make them 
respectable and thinking men. 

After all, the world, that is, the rich and 
fashionable, who wear expensive clothes, live 
in elegant houses, and ride in carriages, are 
not so heartless as is sometimes thought. 
Elinor’s unobtrusive merit, and her skill in 


106 


ELINOR FULTON. 


music, began to excite observation ; she re- 
ceived pressing invitations to musical parties ; 
Mrs. Hart had called and invited her to her 
house, and assured Elinor she should feel a 
benevolent pleasure in showing her off to her 
former friends ; but Ellen had no inclination 
to be shown off. Mrs. Reed, too, was quite 
earnest to ‘patronize ’ Elinor ; but Elinor had 
,no inclination to be patronized. 

Perhaps these two last ladies, whom we do 
not by any means consider specimens of our 
community, would not have been so fond of 
showing off a homely or an awkward girl ; but 
Elinor inherited more than her mother’s good 
looks ; — hers was a beauty of soul, that gave 
animation to her eye, sweetness to her smile, 
and eloquent color to her cheek. How many 
young girls spend their time and money as if 
-they thought embroidered capes, French flow- 
ers, and curls were the soul of beauty ! Eli- 
nor had none of these auxiliaries, and yet 
many .were attracted by her appearance ; and 
even Henry Bradish, who had just returned 
from the tour of Europe, admired the simplici- 
ty of her dress. 

He first came to Mrs. Fulton’s to call for 


THE PURSE OF FORTUNATUS. 107 


his little sister, who happened that day to be 
alone. Ellen was giving her a lesson, and 
he discovered that she had lost none of her 
beauty since the crash ball, as Mrs. Reed 
called it. - ' 

He certainly took some pains to get up a 
flirlaiion (we use the most approved, phrase) ; 
he sent her bouquets of flowers, with which she 
ornamented her mother’s ' mantel-piece, and 
once actually hired some musicians to seren- 
ade her, standing himself an hour or two in the 
cold night air. This proved very unlucky, as 
Elinor had gone that night to watch with a 
sick child, that the poor mother might.be 
recruited for “the duties of the next day.^ 

Poor Jane ! is there no exterminating the'' 
shoots of vanity where it has once taken root? 
How her heart beat at the thought, that Elinor 
might once more take that place in society to 
which her education entitled her ; might be 
the Mrs. Henry Bradish, Jun., of the fashiona- 
ble circle ; might give elegant balls, 'have 
splendid mirrors, and yet' not live beyond 
her means ! for that, Jane said, she knew 
by experience was the most wretched of ail 
situations. 



108 


ELINOR FULTON. 


‘Do, Elinor,’ said Mrs Fulton, ‘answer 
some of his notes that he sends you with the 
flowers.’ 

‘ O, mother,* Elinor replied, ‘how can I.^ 
I have no embossed, gilt, perfumed, billet- 
paper, no French wafers.’ 

‘ You can find paper enough to answer 
William Wardour’s notes,’ said Mrs. Fulton, 
a little angrily. 

Elinor’s ‘ eloquent color *' was heightened 
as she replied, ‘ His notes are only on busi- 
ness ; and common paper, even foolscap, will 
do for that.’ 

We fear some of our young friends will 
think she deserved to wear the foolscap on 
her head, when we confess that she refused a 
most pressing invitation from Henry Bradish 
to a bachelors’ ball, though Mrs. Reed offered 
to take her, and lend her one of Fanny’s 
dresses. 


TWO RESOURCES. 


109 


. CHAPTER XII. 

' TWO RESOURCES. 

Some may ask, ‘ Who is William War- 
dour ? He cannot be anybody, for we have 
never met him in society.’ 

Ellen, however, had frequently met him at 
Mr. Watson’s. As they gradually became 
better acquainted, he found many ways of 
serving her 

It is in vain to talk of the * rights of 
women,’ as long as they are obliged to con- 
fess the supremacy of the other sex in so 
many different ways. What spinster is there 
who has a few thousands, that is^ not obliged 
to call upon some kind brother, nephew, or 
friend, to transact her affairs ? ^ It matters not 
what the capacity of her mind may be for 
business ; her 'education, or rather her want 
of business education, makes' her a child in 
these affairs. 

Perhaps this state of things is not to be 
regretted. It becomes a bond of benevolence 
on one side, and gratitude on the other ; and 


\ 


110 ELINORFULTON. 

probab^y most men would rather perform these 
extra services, than see the exchange crowded 
with women transacting their own concerns/ 
There is one species of education, however, 
that is most earnestly to be wished, — it is 
such a one as would enable a woman to earn 
a living without having to open a boarding- 
house or a school. These seem to be the 
only resources for women who are tenderly 
brought up, and reduced by misfortune to earn 
a subsistence for their families. 

The present enlightened state of society 

has in a manner cut off one of these re- 

0 

sources. Schools are every day rising in 
importance. ^ 

We doubt if Shenstone’s school-mistress can 
now anywhere be found in our part of the 
country : 

‘ In every' village marked with little spire. 

Embowered in trees, and hardly known to fame. 
There dwells, in lowly shed and mean attire, 

A matron old, whom we school-mistress name 
Her cap far whiter than the driven snow. 

Emblem right meet of decency does yield ; 

Her apron dyed in grain, as blue, I trow. 

As is the harebell that adorns the field.’ 

Still less do we think the following- lines * 


TWO RESOURCES. 


Ill 


apply to the little urchins who compose the 
schools of the present day : 

‘ E’en absent, she the reins of power doth hold, 

While with quaint arts the giddy crowd she sways, 

Fpre warned, if little bird their pranks behold, 

’T will whisper in Iter ear, and all the scene unfold.’ 

School-keeping cannot now be assumed by 
age or indigence, — it will go more and more 
into the hands of those who qualify themselves 
for instructors. Does it not require a first- 
rate education to educate others ? 

About twenty-six years ago the first sem- 
inary in Boston was opened for instructing 
young ladies in the higher branches of educa- 
tion. It was an experiment, and succeeded, 
because it was founded on the wants of the 
time. A taste for literature was cultivated, 
and a knowledge of languages taught. This 
seminary prepared the way for others ; 'and, 
though the founder of it has retired, from his 
arduous labors to enjoy in the bosom of his 
family the honorable competency he has won, 
many a blessing goes with him. 

It appears at the present day to be realized, 
that the highest powers of tlie mind are neces- 
sary to this work; that there is no profession 


ELINOR FULTON. 

that requires more laborious preparation; after 
the preparation is made, there are few occu- 
pations more wearing to the spirits. No 
doubt it would be a ‘ delightful task to teach 
the young idea how to shoot,’ if it shot always 
upwards ; but there is an endless variety of 
Cejupers and dispositions to deal with. We 
truly rejoice, that it is taken out of the hands 
of such school-mistresses as Shenstone’s, how’- 
ever picturesque they may be in poetry or 
painting. 

The other resource to which we before 
alluded, was opening a boarding-house. How 
insufficient this is to enable females to earn 
more than a scanty living for their families, 
many most respectable women can attest ; 
many, who have devoted the best part of their 
lives to this business, and finally have given 
it up as poor as they took it. They have only 
the wages of daily labor. 

, Has not the period arrived, in our country, 
when women may be qualified and assisted 
to gain a competency in various branches of 
business? It may be said, there is no impedi- 
ment placed in their way; but this is not just; 
public opinion is the strongest impediment. 





TWO RESOURCES. 


113 


We believe there is a general aversion among 
men to employing or dealing with women in 
any business concerns. Undoubtedly their 
ignorance on the subject is' the cause, for 
ignorance is exacting and unreasonable ; 
but why are they continued in ignorance ? 
Why are the lew women who know any thing 
of business, and are able to transact their own 
affairs, mentioned as prodigies? 


.^0 - 


1J4 


ELINOR FULTON. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

ARCHITECTURE. 

Elinor’s acquaintaace with young W ardour 
had been one of mutual benefit. Wiiilst he 
relieved her from many of the irksome and 
harassing cares that throng round a lone 
woman, as single ones are expressively called, 
ke felt it no slight privilege, comparative 
stranger as he was in the city, to pass his 
evenings at Mrs. Fulton’s house; to take his 
seat at the little table which the family usually 
gathered round with their various occupa- 
tions ; the boys with lessons, the girls with 
their sewing, and Mrs. Fulton with her knit- 
ting. 

Fireside occupation is one of the rights of 
women that Inen may envy." Wardour, how- 
ever, contrived to be employed ; he assisted 
the boys in their lessons, read aloud to the 
girls, or played backgammon with Mrs, Fulton. 

This pleasant intercourse had existed for 
many months. Sometimes he brought pbrt- 
folios of drawings, with beautifully executed 


ARCHITECTURE, 


115 


designs of public buildings or of houses and 
cottages. These were great sources of pleas- 
ure. AVith the advice of friends he had de- 
termined to make architecture a profession, 
and to the cultivation of this taste he now 
turned his whole attention. George, the 
youngest son, had already begun to imitate 
his designs, and Wardour had brought them 
boxes of block's, to instruct ,them in the art oi 
building. 

How much may a young man contribute 
to the usefulness as well as pleasure of so- 
ciety, who endeavors to make his best powers 
beneficial to others. 

‘ What is an architect ? ’ said Julia, one 
evening, when Wardour was present., ‘I like 
to know the exact meaning of words.’ 

‘ Wait a minute,’ said Frank, conceitedly, 
who was turning over his Latin ^dictionary ; 
‘ I will tell you the derivation of the word, if 
you will give me time.’ 

‘ It is somebody that draws houses,’ said 
George. ‘ Because Mr. Wardour is an archi- 
tect, and he draws them.’ 

‘ Poh,’ said Frank, ‘ you might as well say 
he is an architect because he is a clever fel- 


116 ' ELINOR FULTON. 

low. An architect is one that plans buildings ; 
anybody can draw them/ 

Wardour was attracted ‘by their conversa- ♦ 
tion, and moved up to the table. ‘ What do 
you think/ said he, ‘were the first kind of 
houses that people lived in ? ’ 

George said he thought the first was much 
^uch a house as theirs. 

Frank laughed, and said, ‘ It could not be 
better than Mr. Craft’s barn, which was made 
of rough boards an inch or two apart.’ 

Julia said, ‘They must have had houses be- 
.fore they made logs into boards ; so, undoubt- 
edly, log-houses were the first.’ 

‘ Poor Frank ! ’ exclaimed Mrs. .Fulton, 
whose thoughts at the mention of log-houses, 
immediately turned to her husband. 

‘Probably,’ said Wardour, ‘that was the 
third order of houses ; but there were dwel- 
lings and an architect before either.’ 

‘ I should like to know who he was,’ said' 
Frank. 

Wardour was silent for a moment, and 
then continued : ‘ The first habitations of men 
were caves and the hollow of rocks ; and God 
was the first great Architect. Then, as fani 


ARCHITECTURE. 


117 


ilies ' multiplied, they wanted separate habi- 
tations, and they formed something like what 
the Indians call wigwams'; that is, they took 
groups of trees, and cut out the centre ones, 
then twisted the tops of the outer trees togeth- 
er, and so made themselves a shelter from sun ' 
and rain.’ 

‘Poor houses enough, they must have been,’ 
said Frank. 

‘ Yes,’ said Wardour, ‘ and they soon found 
out a better contrivance ; for 'the next houses 
were probably log-houses.’ 

‘ Talking about log-houses always makes 
me melancholy,’ exclaimed Jane. 

‘ I have been practising the song you 
brought me the other day, Mr. Wardour,’ said 
Elinor ; ‘ should you like to hear it ’ 

Wardour started up with alacrity; but Jane 
said, ‘Indeed, Elinor, I 'cannot think of yolir 
going into that cold room to play ; I beg you 
will not.’ 

They both reseated themselves. At that 
moment Henry Bradish entered. Mrs. Fulton 
received him with her usual cordiality, which, 
we are sorry to say, was a little more hearty 
than her reception of the first gue§t. The 


18 


ELINOR FULTON. 


boys, however, seemed by no means delighted; 
it was an interruption to their enjoyment, for 
Henry Bradish confined himself to the pre- 
vailing topics of the day, talked of the thea- 
tre, of engagernents, of parties, St-c. No one 
entered much into these topics except Julia ; 
she possessed many of the traits of her moth 
‘ er’s character,^ and partook with facility ot 
every thing around her. 

‘ My sister Caroline begged me to ask you 
to play the new piece of music I sent you 
by her,’ said Henry, addressing himself to 
Elinor. 

‘ I would with pleasure,’ replied she, ‘but 
my mother is afraid to have me sit in a cold 
room.’ 

Jane looked actually vexed. ‘ I think, 
Elinor,’ said she, ‘ if you put orr my blanket 
shawl, and tie a handkerchief over your head, 
'you may just venture to play one piece to 
Mr. Bradish.’ 

Henry grew urgent upon this encourage- 
ment. 

Elinor rose to go to the cold room, but said, 
‘ Come, Mr. Wardour, I must first play your 
song. ’ 


I 




ARCHITECTURE. -11 9. 

There was iio domestic branch of education 
that Elinor did not think important ' for her 
brothers^ even to the sewing on of a button ; 
for she told them they would often be so situ- 
ated as to be obliged to do it for themselves, 
and then it was important to do it in the right 
w*ay. She certainly did not gain much assist- 
.ance from them in this respect ; for Frank 
delighted to put his broad, chubby hand by the 
side of hers, and ask exultingly which was 
made for sewing. Still, however, something 
was learned, and it was the source of much 
amusement to the little circle. - 

Their evenings were now often enlivened 
by two or three visiters. Mrs. Fulton’s spirits 
were better on this account ; and 'Elinor said, 
justly, there were no pleasures so cheap as 
those of society, if they were contented with 
the simple enjoyment of it, to call, and pass 
an hour by the fireside. 

These visits were always pleasant, for they 
w’ere without form^ ; no one dragged out 
another half-hour because it was rude to go 
before the entertainment came in. Conver- 
sation and music were the only entertainment. 

Henry Bradish became a constant visiter. 


120 


ELINOR FUI. TON. 


Mrs. Fulton always received him with smiles, 
Tind Julia had many inquiries to make about 
the prevailing topics of the day ; but Elinor, 
much to the disapprobation of her mother, was 
often necessarily engaged in household mat- 
ters, and left them to entertain him. 


ACOTILLOX PARTY. 121 


CHAPTER XIV. 

A COTILLOX PARTY. 

One change now took place in their little 
circle, which was important to some of the 
members of it. Wardour exchanged his even- 
ing visits for morning calls, when he had 
errands on business. This, after the domes- 
tic intercourse of many months, was deeply 
felt by the young people. Still, however, he 
was ready to render the flirnily all essential 
services, and Elinor had no reason to com- 
plain. 

We retract the last sentence; — there is 
reason to complain when a friend, after accus- 
toming us to his society, suddenly withdraws 
and leaves a painful void. Many a young 
heart, under such circumstances, has borne 
its secret anguish, till the spring time of life 
has prematurely faded into autumn. 

Mrs.* Reed could not remain ignorant of 
Henry Bradish’s visits to Mrs. Fulton’s. She 
had learned that he carried music to Elinor, 
and sent her.flowers. 


122 ELINOR F U L T 0 xV . 

How she had learned it, we cannot im- 
agine; we are sometimes tempted to think 
these busybodies, like Shenstone’s school- 
mistress, have little birds that tell them every 
thing. 

‘Why, mamma,’ said Fanny, ‘I am not 
the least afraid of Elinor Fulton; she knows 
nothing of the world; she is not in the least 
fascinating.’ 

Mrs. Reed had more foresight than Fanny. 
‘I don’t know,’ said she; ‘I could tell, if I 
could see them together. I think it would be 
well, Fanny, for you to get up an intimacy 
with Elinor Fulton.’ 

‘I have tried, mamma,’ said* Fanny; ‘but 
somehow or other there is no being intimate 
with her.’ 

‘ I know I can get it out of Mrs. Fulton, if 
there is any engagement,’ returned the moth- 
er; ‘I will go and see her.’ 

Accordingly she made a morning call; but 
there was nothing to ^ get out,’ and she re- 
turned in high spirits. As she was now sure 
the way was open for Fanny, it cost her a 
new pink satin dress, and a quantity of French 


A COTILLON PARTY. 


123 


flowers, for the young lady to begin a new 
attack upon the heart of the beau. 

At this time a note of invitation arrived 
from Mrs. Bradish, inviting the Miss Fultons 
to a very small cotillon party. Ellen had 
uniformly declined all such invitations; but 
Julia was now for the first, time included and 
was most earnest to go. Mrs. F ulton, too, said, 
it would be hard on poor Julia to refuse. 

Elinor hesitated. How difficult it is to take 
a painful responsibility on ourselves ! 

‘Mother, ‘said she, ‘there is no half way 
if we once begin; we cannot afford dress or 
the necessary expense.’ 

‘ O,’ said Julia,’ Mrs. Bradish says in her 
note, she will send her carriage for us, and 
send us home.’ 

‘ Yes,’ said Mrs. Fulton, ‘ and you are both 
welcome to wear anything of mine.’ 

‘If we go,’ said Elinor, ‘we must not at- 
tempt to dress, except in the plainest manner.’ 

Julia agreed to any thing, and the joy of 
her heart was unbounded. Mrs. Fulton made 
several attempts to get a little antiquated 
finery on her daughters; but Elinor on that 
point was decided. 


124 


ELINOR FULTON. 


It was a painful effort for Ellen; it was 
against her judgment that she went, and she 
fully resolved to go no more. 

The party was not very large, but poor 
Elinor constantly thought of the hall, in the 
adjoining house; and when Henry Bradish 
asked her to dance, she declined. Not so 
Julia; it was a scene of delight to her, and 
she kept the floor all the evening. 

Had Mrs. Fulton been present, her mater- 
nal pride would no doubt have been highly 
gratified when she heard it said, that ‘ the 
Miss Fultons were the prettiest girls in the 
room.’ 

Mrs. Reed and Fanny returned triumphant 
Henry Bradish had not danced with Elinor 
once, and he had danced with Fanny twice. 

Jane was confirmed in her idea, that there 
was an attachment between Henry and Elinor. 

* Nothing else,’ she said, ‘ could have induced 
her to go to a party.’ How few can compre- 
hend the disinterested sacrifices of a noble 
mind ! Jane doted on Elinor, honored and 
respected her; but she did not understand her 
character. " 

Another invitation came the next day from 


A COTILLON PARTY. 125 

Mrs. Hart, to a musical party. The Miss Ful- 
tons. were really getting into fashion. Again 
Mrs. Fulton and Julia were for accepting; 
but Elinor said, ‘ Mother, for what have 
we been making all these sacrifices ? has it 
not been for honest independence ? is it not 
for this, my father is still struggling with hard- 
ship, and living away from us ? I cannot go 
to any more parties. Do you remember the 
good old lady’s observation some time ago, in 
speaking of fashionable visiting ? She said 
we^must give it up, or keep it up.’ 

‘ It is evident,’ said Mrs. Fulton, ‘that you 
might take the first stand in society, if you 
gave Henry Bradish more encouragement.’ 

Both Elinor and Julia laughed. 

‘I have always thought,’ continued Jane, 
‘ that if I gave my children a good education, 
, and introduced them to good society, I had 
done all I could for them; but really, Ellen, 
it seems to do you no good.’ 

‘ You are right, mother,’ said Elinor, ‘ there 
is no such blessing as good society; but is 
Mrs. Hart, or Mrs. Reed, what you call good 
society } Would not my father be astonished, 


126 


ELINOR FULTON, 


when he returns, to find us in a circle like 
this ? ’ ; 

‘Elinor,’ said Jane, ‘ I will never mention 
it again. I am a foolish, fond niother.’ 

‘ You are the dearest of mothers,’ said 
Elinor, embracing her, ‘ and I pray Heaven 
to make me worthy of such kind parents.’ 

Month after month passed, and Henry Brad- 
ish did not offer himself to Elinor. Mrs. 
Fulton was full of wonder. ‘ What could he 
keep coming for, if he meant any thing se- 
rious ? ' He was standing in his own light, not 
to declare himself Elinor was losing ’ the 
first freshness and bloom of youth. It cer- 
tainly was not for want of opportunity, for she 
had often contrived to leave them together.’ 

It was with some degree of pleasure, that 
she learned that an er^ was to be put to -Wair 
dour’s visits ; he called to tell them, that he”^ 
had an eligible offer made him of superintend- 
ing a public building in one of our sister 
cities, and he should not return for several 
months.' 

Mrs. Fulton was quite sure that Henry 
would now come forward and, though she 
expressed civil regret at Wardour’s depart- 


COTI LLON PARTY. 


1^1 

ure, she thought it was the luckiest thing that 
could have happened. 

That evening it struck Jane, after Wardour 
went away, that Elinor looked pale and de- 
jected. 

‘ You are not well, I am afraid,’ said the 
anxious mother. 

‘Yes,’ said Ellen, ‘quite well;’ but in 
spite of her 'efforts the tears came into her. 
eyes. 

‘ Elinor ! Elinor ! ’ exclaimed Jane, ‘ you 
have heard some bad news from your father,’ 
and she flung herself back in her chair half 
fainting. 

‘ Not one word, I assure you, mother,’ 
returned she ; ‘goodnight.’ 


128 


ELINOR FULTON 


CHAPTER XV. 

DR. FULTON’S RETURN. 

Nought shall make us rue, 

If England to itself do rest but true.” 

Shakspeare. 

Who has not felt the languor and weariness 
of life creep over them at intervals, perhaps 
after great happy excitement, perhaps after 
' bitter disappointment } All who think, must 
have experienced this lassitude. Elinor had 
'less right to it than any one, for she never had 
been the round, and found all was vanity; she 
had never sipped the cup of what is called 
pleasure ; and yet this period seemed to have 
arrived. She performed her daily duties; but 
the gay carol was wanting, which rose, like 
the song of the lark, on the pure breath of the 
morning. 

Lucinda perceived there was a change, and 
she went to Mrs. Fulton and communicated 
her thoughts. ‘I arn afraid, ma’am,’ said she, 
‘all is not right with our Miss Elinor; I am 
sure it is dull work to me, when I don’t hear 
her sweet voice of an evening or a morning.* 


DR. pulton’s return. 


129 


Jane was all agitation. ‘ Do you think she 
is sick, Lucinda ? has any thing happened ? ’ 

‘ Why, I have thought, — ’ said Lucinda. 

‘ What ? what ’ exclaimed Jane. 

^ That' our rye bread does not agree with 
her.’ 

‘Poll ! is that all ^ ’ Mrs. Fulton however 
determined to observe Elinor more closely 
She finally came to the persuasion, that there 
was an ambiguity in Henry Bradish’s conduct 
that was the cause of Ellen’s depression, and 
concluded, as he was on the point of offering 
her his hand, it was best not to interfere. 

We know not what mental process Ellen 
went through ; but it seemed to be one that 
gradually restored her cheerfulness. Both 
her mother and Lucinda grew tranquil, and 
the latter again set open her kitchen door 
when she was about her work, that ‘ she might 
hear,’ as she said, ‘Miss Elinor’s voice warb- 
ling like a canary bird’s.’ 

Late^ one evening Jane sat in her rocking- 
chair, looking into the fire, and thinking over 
past scenes. Suddenly the door opened, and 
Dr. Fulton entered. Jane had said, and fully 
believed it, if he was to come unexpectedly, 


130 


ELINOJl FULTON. 


she should fall, dead at his feet. But we have 
more strength, or less sensibility, than we 
think. She lived through it, lived through 
the overwhelming delight of having him again 
restored to her. Jane had come as near to 
Milton’ s description of Eve as perhaps any 
woman ever did : 

* God, thy law; thou, mine ! * 

Her gentle and yielding spirit had always 
been guided by her husband’s. If, in former 
scenes of luxury and extravagance her bet- 
ter reason had spoken, one word of his could 
silence its voice. Had his influence and su- 
perior sense been beneficially exerted, she 
would never have erred ; for Frank was her 
second conscience. 

We believe there are few husbands that do 
^ not consider such a wife a model; but, after 
all, they are frail barks, and made for the 
smooth waters of a summer’s sea. Woman 
has her part to perform as well as man, nor is 
it one of less vigorous principle. Men are 
impelled by a thousand contending interests 
that operate abroad ; women- have time for 
thought and reflection. While he is laboring 
for the temporal benefit of the family, she 


TALENTS WITHOUT PRINCIPLE. 13 ] 


may watch over its spiritual welfare, and make 
the domestic altar worthy of that devotion, 

‘ Which touclied Isaiah’s hallowed lips with fire.’ 

Elinor happily united resolution and firm- 
ness with the yielding disposition of her mother; 
but her strength* lay in her uncompromising 
sense of duty. 

What are talents, genius, or good temper, 
without high and resolute principle They 
much resemble the spectacle that has at dif- 
ferent times collected so many thousands on 
our beautiful Common, they are like the 
balloon, which rises high, while inflated, and is 
the admiration of the gazing multitude. How 
proudly it wafts the hero in his car ! how grace- 
fully he waves his banners, first on one side, 
then on the other ! He scatters around his 
printed leaves, — the populace contend for 
them ; awhile he floats in empty space,’ 
and then soars beyond mortal ken. What is 
the closing history of this brilliant spectacle } 
The gas begins to escape, — he descends grad- 
ually ; if on dry land, he is fortunate ; but it is 
more probable that he will go fathoms deep 
into the ocean, and, when he rises, a scarcely 
breathing form, be rescued from a watery 


13'2 


ELINOR FULTON. 


grave by the hand of some humble and per- 
haps despised mariner. 

Would to Heaven that the vmce of truth and 
duty, of unwavering principle, of accountability 
to each other, of honest independence, could 
be heard in all our cities, and in ‘ every 
log-house beyond the mountains ! ’ Would 
that it could ' grow liquid,’ and flow forth, like 
our noble rivers, fertilizing our country! When 
will man feel that man is his brother^ Do 
you say this will never arrive till the millen- 
nium takes place ? It is this state of feeling 
that will make the millennium. Could we 
once unite for the good of the whole, we 
should be as invincible over internal 'evils as 
we have been over foreign invasion. Our 
national existence was secured. by one spirit ; 
— by one spirit it must be preserved. Away 
with division of interests ! our fathers fought 
for one and the same cause ; they have 
given us this land for our inheritance, and 
we are children of one family. Let us have 
confidence in each other ; let us realize, 
that our hearts are mutually warmed by the 
same vital stream that flows from the Crea- 
tor ; that we have humane an^ benevolent 


MUTUAL S<YMPATHIES. 


133 


purposes, and that it is the duty of all to unite 
cordially and sincerely in carrying those pur- 
poses into execution. 


I 


134 


ELINOR FULTON. 


- CHAPTER XVI.. 

THE DEPARTURE OF AN OLD FRIEND. 

Now, indeed, nothing seemed wanting to 
the happiness of the Fulton family. Frank 
had returned to see his children. Promising 
and amiable, not one of the little flock had 
been separated from the fold How much 
Jane had to tell, we can easily believe. Dr. 
Fulton’s sign was again put up, and, as we 
have- the sick as well as the poor always with 
us, he soon began' to have patients. 

Their true friends, the- Watsons, partook 
most heartily in their happiness ; but Mrs. 
Watson’s pale cheek and emaciated frame 
spoke more of another world than this. She 
had borne the loss of all her children with sub- 
mission, and, by degrees, cheerfulness; it was 
now evident she was hastening to join them. 
She disclosed this expectation, however, -only 
by an increased gentleness of manner and the 
hope that brightened her eye. It truly seemed, 
as if the glorious light of Heaven penetrated 
through the ruins of the decaying frame. 


DEPARTURE OF AN OLD FRIEND. 135 

Again Elinor was receiving, under the same 
roof, lessons for this life and another. Often 
for hours she sat at the feet of her friend, 
sometimes holding them, and trying to bring 
back circulation by the gentle friction of 
her hand ; sometimes reading to her from the 
Scriptures ; after they were wholly silent, they 
mingled their' hearts in fervent devotion, but 
no human voice was heard ! 

The last night at length came. Elinor 
watched by her friend, and they talked at in- 
tervals through the night. How ^impressive 
was that period ! The physician had given it 
as his opinion, she could live but a few hours. 
She was yet here, breathing and conversing, 
with all the powers of her mind in full exer- 
cise, the soul unimpaired, and, apparently, 
only waiting to throw aside the heavy garment 
which impeded its flight upwards. As the 
morning approached, she requested Elinor to 
extinguish the lamp, and open the shutter ; 

^ they watched together the dawning of light. 

‘ See the day breaks ! ’ exclaimed Mrs. Wat- 
son. They kept their eyes fixed on the in- 
creasing brightness, till the majestic orb itself 
rose above the horizon. ; 


136 


ELINOR FULTON. 


‘ Look ! ’ said the dying woman ; ‘ behold 
the glorious type of Him who is the life and 
the resurrection ! Close the shutters,’ said 
she to Mr. Watson, who was kneeling by her 
bedside; it is too bright for human eyes.’ He 
went forward and closed it; when he returned, 
she was lying lifeless on the bosom of Elinor! 

It was a hard parting- for Mr. Watson. 
For more than thirty years they had shared 
together the joys and sorrows of life ; that 
the sorrows had predominated, had only been 
a stronger bond of union. The spirit of con- 
solation still dwelt with him. 

All went on quietly at Dr. Fulton’s. Hen- 
ry Bradish still continued to be a constant 
visiter. It was unaccountable to Jane, that 
he did not offer himself to Elinor; yet, though 
the opportunities were frequent, he never had. 

Since Dr. Fulton’s return they frequently 
saw the newspapers. In one of them, men- 
tion was made of the public building of which 
Wardour was the architect, and the following 
paragraph was added: — ‘We are pleased to 
say, that, while the building gives universal 
satisfaction, the young architect will receive 


DEPARTURE OP AN OLD FRIEND. 137 


a remuneration beyond his expectations, and 
henceforth full employment.’ 

When Jane was alone with her husband, 
she gave him the history of Wardour’s ac- 
quaintance, and added with self-complacency, 
* I think he would have offered himself to 
Elinor, if I had encouraged him.’ 

Frank had resumed his former gay and 
happy laugh ; it was constitutional with him, 
and only banished by anxiety and self-condem- 
nation ; he had one for the present occasion. 

‘ There seems to be some great difficulty 
with Elinor’s admirers,’ said he ; ‘ one does 
not offer himself, because she does not encour- 
age him; another, because you do not. Now 
seriously, my dear Jane, is not Elinor the 
greatest blessing we have } why should we 
wish to part with her } ’ 

‘ I do not, I am sure.’ replied Jane ; ‘ only 
it seems to be the lot '5f every woman to be 
married.’ 

‘ And a sad lot, too, it sometimes turns out.’ 

‘And sometimes a blessed one,’ said Jane, 
with enthusiasm ; ‘ as my experience proves,’ 

‘ My' excellent Jane ! ’ exclaimed Frank, 
his eyes glistening ; ‘ God make me worthy 
12 


138 


ELINOR FULTON. 


of such affection ! Still, however, as matri- 
mony is justly called a lottery, let us not be 
eager to buy tickets for our children. I ask 
, no greater good than to keep them with us. 
As to this young man, William Wardour, from 
all I have heard of him publicly, and from all 
Mr. Watson has told me privately, I know not 
a. man in the world that I should prefer to him 
- for a son-in-law.’ 

‘ Should you prefer him to Henry Bradish.^ ’ 
said Jane, ‘ who will inherit a fortune, and 
moves in the first circle.^ ’ 

‘I honor the man,’ replied Frank, ‘who 
makes his own fortune by talents and indus- 
try. This is the spirit of our institutions, — 
this is to make us a race of virtuous men. 
What are the first circles to us, or indeed to 
any one, except in proportion as they contain 
good sense, good morals, and more extensive 
influence ? Let us grow wise by all we have 
suffered.’ 

I perceive you are right,’ said Jane ; ‘ I 
am sorry I discouraged Wardour ’ 


CONCLUSION. 


139 


CHAPTER XVII. 

THE ARRIVAL OF A FRIEND, AND CONCLUSION. 

A FEW days after this conversation, Dr. 
Fulton came in one morning and observed, 
* that Mr. Wardour had returned the evening 
before; and just now,’ added he, ‘Mr. Wat- 
son introduced him to me, and he requested 
leave to call and see us this evening.’ The 
boys shouted for joy, Julia clapped her hands, 
Mrs. Fulton said, ‘ How glad I shall be to see 
him ! ’ but Elinor bent her head over her 
work. 

‘ Elinor is the only one that says nothing ! ’ 
exclaimed her father. 

How tormenting is the ‘ eloquent color ’ of 
a woman which rushes to her cheek ! There 
is no counterfeiting this proof of emotion ; and 
so thought Dr. Fulton; for he looked anxious- 
ly and tenderly in her face. 

When the evening came, the boys were 
busy in preparing for their friend. Julia had 
a purse that she had been making for him; 
George had written a petition in Latin, re- 


140 


ELINOR FULTON. 


questing him to learn him to he an architect; 
Frank had his mathematical problems; Elinor 
alone made no preparations. 

When Wardour arrived, he had no reason 
to be dissatisfied with his reception. Dr. Ful- 
ton possessed uncommon talents at conversa- 
tion ; he brought forward his backwoods 
descriptions, full of spirit and humor, mingling 
touches of thought and moral feeling, that 
discovered how well he had profited by his 
exile. 

The evening wore. away to a late hour. At 
length Wardour, with some embarrassment, 
requested of Elinor, that he might again hear 
his favorite song upon the piano. 

She arose and took one of the lamps, — the 
boys, too, rose to follow them; but Dr. Fulton 
called them back, saying ‘ My good boys, it 
is time for you to go to bed, or you will be 
sleepy in the morning.’ They retired, and 
Julia too withdrew. 

Dr. Fulton, with his happy wife, sat listen- 
ing to the rich full tones of Elinor’s voice, till 
at length it ceased, and only the low murmur 
of conversation was heard. When Wardour 
returned to them, he was alone. It was evi- 


C O N C L,U S I 0 N . 


141 


dent he had but one object, and that was to 
say, that he had obtained Elinor’s favor, and 
theirs alone was wanting. This was readily 
accorded ; and then he spoke of his long affec- 
tion, of his many struggles, and resolute de- 
termination not to make known his feelings till 
he felt secure that he could provide for all 
exigences. The time had arrived, and he 
had only to pray for that blessing on his exer- 
tions, that every industrious man may expect. 

The next morning Jane happened to be 
alone ; — Henry Bradish, unexpectedly to her, 
called. Poor Jane ! her kind heart ached for 
him; she knew not how to tell him of Elinor’s 
recent engagement, but she expressed a 
double share of regard for him, and said she 
hoped, let what would come to light, he would 
always preserve his friendship for them. 

Henry, on his side, seemed a little embar- 
rassed. He said, ‘ She must have perceived 
he felt a strong interest in one member of her 
family.’ 

Jane confessed that she had. 

‘I have never spoken to you,’ said he, 
‘ though I saw you were my best friend ; be- 
cause I had not obtained my father’s consent. 


142 


ELINOR FULTON. 


But he has permitted me to call this morning, 
and ask yours and Dr. Fulton’s.’ 

‘ Alas ! ’ said Jane, ‘ it is too late ! too late ! 
why did you not speak before.^ She has de- 
clared her preference for another.’ 

‘ Impossible ! ’ said Henry; ‘ we have long 
understood each other, even before the cotil- ' 
Ion party at our house.’ 

‘I cannot help it,’ said Jane; ‘they' are 
positively engaged, — we gave our consent 
last evening.’ 

‘ They ? ’ exclaimed Henry ; ‘ who ? ’ 

‘Why, Mr. Wardour and Elinor.’ 

‘ We are playing at cross purposes,*’ replied 
he, eagerly ; ‘ it is of Julia I am speaking.’ 

Now came Mrs. Fulton’s astonishment. 

‘ What ! Julia ? that child ? only seventeen ! ’ 

Julia was called. ‘How could you,’ said 
her mother, ‘ carry on this affair, and we none 
of us suspect it } ’ 

‘ Indeed, mother,’ replied Julia, ‘ when 
Henry told me we must keep it secret till he 
had gained his father’s consent, I knew the 
only way to keep a secret was not to tell of 
it. And then you helped us ; — for you were 
so determined Henry should be in love with 


C 0 N C L U S I O X . 


143 


Elinor, that you never once thought of your 
poor Julia.’ 

‘To say the truth,’ said Henry, ‘ when I 
first came back from Europe, I thought only 
of Elinor ; but I soon saw Elinor thought 
only of Wardour, and I very soon discovered 
that Julia and I were made for each other.’ 

We have now come to the end of our sto- 
ry, and have only one more sentence to add 
The next week the two weddings took place, 
and Julia was received into Mrs. Bradish’s 
family as a cherished daughter, and Elinor 
settled in her own neat and pleasant house, 
planned by her husband, with a niche reserved 
for the piano. Lucinda came to Mrs. Fulton 
and told her she had been looking out for 
other help for her. 

‘ And why ? ’ said Mrs. Fulton ; ‘ I am 
perfectly contented with you.’ 

‘ But I am not contented, ma’am,’ said 
Lucinda. ‘ Miss Elinor was the making of me, 
she knows how to manage me ; and if she 
will not let me live with her, I shall get a 
place to work in a factory.’ 

It is needless to say that Elinor received the 
affectionate girl. Mrs. Fulton had perhaps 


144 


ELINOR FULTON. 


been too long under Mrs. Reed’s guidance to 


suit Lucinda. 


Dr. and Mrs. Fulton are now frequently 
invited to the circles from which they were 
once exiled. But they have learned, that there 


is no happiness like that which they can find , i 
in their own little parlor, enlivened almost [ 
every evening by the presence of their chil- 
dren; and we believe Jane’s sole annoxjance 
now arises from her other help. 


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